Thursday, April 11, 2013

Freedom

Beneath a blanket of highways
the long snake lay slumbering, ready to spit up
a team of determined, hollow-legged Nazis
marching black and white from the center of the earth,
while above them spun a continent of those content
to deny their existence, content to deny existence
a great dark void
to that whole rabble of peasants suspended from the white-hot
void of stage lights, that rabble whose guitar-playing
poetry-reading ways told them the truth, that they were slaves
whether they wore 
chains or neckties or miniskirts, but
slaves are inherently
free;
in poetry and song and story
we immortalize that freedom, while the great dark void
watches,
knowing it can do nothing to stop this immortality,
knowing that one day the void will swallow up its neckties, miniskirts
bikinis and swastikas, but that freedom
will endure long after the speeches and the temples
enshrining it are dust.

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