This poem is a mournful riff on the destructive grievance politics of the so-called right. Of course, what is left is left, with love and hope remaining to knit life wince agin.<\/p>\n
Tears in My Soul<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Where divides multiply This poem is a mournful riff on the destructive grievance politics of the so-called right. Of course, what is left is left, with love and hope remaining to knit life wince agin. Tears in My Soul Where divides multiply As … Continue reading
\nAs far as right from left
\nWhen unhinged makes cents
\nWhat is there to a door?
\nIn the presents of ever-lusting crack
\nThat elusive hole
\nJust an other
\nDay at the breach
\nDarkness too pitch
\nAvowedly blind to race
\nCutting off cares
\nTrafficking in uncontrollable SOBs
\nAs red to bull
\nAnd baloney to mete
\nHurting for moral fiber
\nEmptying them bawls
\nAt any accost
\nOblivious to any alleged love of enemas
\nAs disingenuous when it comes
\nAs wolves to lambs
\nAs wailing and blubber
\nIn their revolting state
\nAborting traitors
\nAs if
\nLiving from bred alone
\nHalf aloof from won an other
\nLone woofs
\nAnd accompanying blues rifts
\nWaiting for that looming breakdown
\nWith a big \u201csew what?\u201d
\nPurported men
\nOf auction
\nWorshipping the buy and buy
\nComforted by the hear after
\nOf bidder tears
\nHaving dropped a bundle
\nOf joy
\nAnd what is left?
\nNothing in their mine
\nAggrieved
\nAnd in titled only
\nBarely conscience
\nOf what put US under
\nA klan that desperately needs
\nTo be surrounded by their mothers
\nMore profoundly than any boo who
\nMilks it for awe it is worth
\nIn the recesses of one\u2019s heart
\nWear the wrest is history
\nAnd in the mourning
\nKnow right left
\nAwe the ardor
\nShredding tears
\nIn my soul
\nEasier sad
\nThen done
\nKnow madder what might right
\nOn the wall
\nObliged to live
\nWith what is left<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"