Yesterday’s colours splash,
Fill pools on the sidewalks
The present horror making cracks
Great ravines of political bloodshed
And placebos for real families
The buses heave by
Casting grey yellow crests
In their wake. The door
of my driver side rattles,
The third layer on my morning’s shuffle
Second to nature’s steady beat against windows
And my own habited sighs.
Hands loosely guide the wheel with but a strand of inspiration
Auto-piloted to the red brick fortress
Where the government houses and maintains the future
To their sheepish liking,
The rebellion in me quashed again,
To veer left and find you in your bed
Waiting for my coffee and a reading of the morning news.
Sighs. I will let it fill the streets
And watch it paint fear and disdain
Amongst those with reason to read it,
Believers of miracles and fables.
Today, it is already cold water
and I made tea in a microwave.
Lion-headed weeds roar under
Grey skies at my resignation.
Betrayed at my denial
Of a granted wish.
Their balded ancestors balking
In judgment as I pass.
Through a brown metal portal I enter
And become an image in his name.
Broken promise, they roar,
Their daily news.
The wind will sentence them to lose their heads
By the next evening
And I smile in arrogant liberty
To be flawed for a lifetime