Written by Jonathan Aryeh Wayne, December 14, 2016

Breathe with me, as trees see birds flee
From the featured branches of feathered twigs
Bigoted leaves won’t deteriorate like eroded beaches
Hateful colors can’t feel the wind’s reaches
Beckoning the future freeze and snowfall’s breeze
Aligning in partisan ways the dumbfounded haze

The moonlight is enslaved behind deceptive clouds
Reflecting back to the self absorbed troposphere
The governing thermosphere high above is autocratic
Retaining automatic radiation for the people’s sheeple

Delinquent snowflakes don’t go astray
Creating new shapes and mix tapes
For haunted political rallies echoing ghosts
And standing room only with brains as toast
Serving the grand white wizards and sorcerers
The captive audience spreads disinformation
Grey matter drips out of ears for powerful fears
For mindless tears, and racist cheers
The ancient trees still stand above the oddity
In the face of the accumulated sovereignty

Bending and breaking wooden limbs
Baking bark, barking bread instead
The xenophobe’s dilemma stands still
As graceful grey geese migrate south
Evading the incoming storm of dread
Wisely respecting the patterns instead
Laughter and horror intertwine for all time
Cellphone towers to Babylon and Babel
Ready for war like Cain meeting Abel
But the fleeing of life isn’t ready for strife
The calm before the end is just temporary
For the hippocampi of Hippopotamuses
And Vegan hips for hippie and hipster alike

Heil mister hister, hailstorm revolution blister
Pharmaceutical thugs created the polarity
Thanks to Thorazine’s antipsychotic descendents
And other drugs that exacerbated dependence
Pumped into world leaders who do not pretend
To foment anger, while Christmas trees burn highrises
And teachers are nailed to crosses for being too liberal
Repression of the fittest, thrival of the wittest
Blame politicized science for your septic system
Enflame the night sky for being too dark
Shame the high speed train for delivering the goods
To your local Costco superstore lane

Watch David Blaine on Netflix perform magic tricks
From the polyester recliner full of flame retardants
From underneath the comforter you bought at IKEA
And the plastic space heater from Hammacher Schlemmer
Soon to be returned for a Dyson that cost 500 dollars
Shot in the appendix for a community of scholars
Steeped in mulled wine and a bitchy brew
Nowhere as sophisticated as your big league chew

Glass after glass you pour your oily wine
As you watch FOX News for your golden swine
And you sit there and tell me that the white race is superior
When I wish the television set would fry your posterior
And set your shoes on fire while melting your innards
But I know that being negative doesn’t make us wizards

On every single step I took along the 30 street blocks
I released the unjustified anger through my rubber soles
Soulfully, I sang the honeydewed songs of Summer
Wishing Autumn would turn to Spring amid the Winter bling
I heard a hobo playing an electric hammered dulcimer
While the uncultured capitalists sat in chemical ballrooms
Consuming disease, applauding murderers in tailored suits
Celebrating their own achievements in brainwashed fashion
Sitting mannerly at their banquet dinner, faking their smiles
Necks straining to those warriors on a gleaming stage
Last names and job titles were all the rage

And miles away, across the Potomac, I stood there listening
While the melodious street lights were glistening
Reverberating, syncopating, harmonizing the streets of royalty
From Prince St to Queen St to Princess St and back to King
Candle lanterns flickered from the wind of the hawk
If only these ancient cobblestones could talk
Of all the memories that were trampled onto them
And those stalkers of time who spit out phlegm

But not one establishment was anti-consumerist
On any street in that city, state or country
Sidewalks for strolling weren’t as popular on freezing nights
When private gathering places offered cheap bites
But the lone seagull stays outside 24 hours a day
Indoor living is unheard of in nature’s buffet

Perhaps close minded people have souls of an infant
Unable to see the planet’s fragile pigment
Until they return to expose their job-creating figment
In a wrecked civilization that is environmentally astringent
Smiling up to a dead AT&T telecommunications satellite