(after watching Lee Camp interview Eleanor Goldfield)
Golden fields, we’re all sunflowers
Dandelions, clover, and milkweed.
Dawn is passing and the soils tilled
And soon the worms of us will multiply
Into awakening the settled stardust gifted
From the eve of time in which we sprung
Hell’s an invisible tsunami wave
Of Constitutional burning Bills with surgical
Divided poison spitting lies. It’s here. It’s here
Knocking at our door, every hole, all the windows
Are broken. The door is opened wide
And an invisible bully is holding his joy stick —
Into the sun we shall fully see this beast is nothing
But a small percentage of men dressed in kingly
Play clothes, parading a trail of militarized
Jesters and fools, like a house of cards they
Laid down the order of their finest suits
Saving the smears for a bombshell-ed dessert.
We threw a grenade of dirts
Mixed with seeds,
But the police took them away
Because someone in the party typed
“Bombshell grenade” on a pocket-device
Causing a trigger of emotionally robotic
She said bombshell!
Freedom doesn’t exist anymore.
It’s just all up in your mind.