Red

Table of contents

***

red, bred,

red for the breading

the breeding and sneezing

sit home sick with our sluggish lungs

tryna breathe–

we concern ourselves here

with aftermaths.

The revolution revolves

the rulers lose

the rebels rule

new rebels choose

a wiser head than the rulers’ abuse

unless it’s a ruse

then

the bread turns red

with blood

again

and in the aftermath

children still must eat–

we concern ourselves here with the aftermath.

The aftermath

of a cycle

that cannot be broken.

Unless you believe

in utopia?

Where the snakes sleep with sheep

and frogs frolic with fishing geese

and we all feed

on the sun of somebody else’s stomach.

Where we all eat only from the hand of a God.

Do you believe in utopia,

in heaven?

No, no, forget about such frivolous things–

to end the cycle

you must be God,

to be God

you must prove it by ending the cycle,

I speak of aftermaths

but aftermaths are really just another step in the cycle

of war and rulers and fallouts and rebels;

so pick and choose

any war you survive

any uprising you ride

any tyrant you topple

any rebel you tutor

any hero you raise up

hoping she’ll act more savior than the last

and tell me what’s so wrong with all of them.

Why the cycle

remains unbroken,

why we’re still sick

and sneezing,

barely breathing.

It’s cuz power corrupts, you know.

With power comes responsibility

but responsibility can be taken off

like a coat

and used for a whip,

and heroes like these responsibilities

making their shoulders strong,

they like their

colorful coats of arms

announcing their names to the crowds.

So maybe to break the cycle

you pick a savior who never was

and never will be

a hero, who never

will know a weapon–

But how do you topple

the tyrant

without

giving

the

child-savior

his

stick

of

red

bread,

then

telling

him

to

eat

it

then

die

or

use

it

to

fight

for

his

life?