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Abstract

ed at your heart. The red, white, and bloodied blue — the shroud of your conscience.</p><h2 id="b036">C O M P L I C I T Y</h2><h2 id="0c91">Duck!</h2><h2 id="8545">Here come —</h2><p id="e2a8">the severed tongues of Al Jazeera journalist Shireen Abu Akleh and Palestinian female freelance journalist Ola Atallah</p><h2 id="e7f6">The skilled hands of —</h2><p id="8855">Doctors without Borders Dr. Mahmoud Abu Nujaila Dr. Ahmad Al Sahar! Dr Ziad Al-Tatari</p><h2 id="5f61">The bloodied heads</h2><p id="fc89">of 100 aid workers</p><h2 id="a0d6">The crushed conscience of —</h2><p id="9bf9">Canadian-Israeli peace activist Vivian Silver</p><h2 id="be69">The penned wisdom of —</h2><p id="9846">Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer Palestinian poet Hiba Abu Nada</p><h1 id="baba">DUCK ALREADY!</h1><h1 id="0faf">TURN ON THE TV!</h1><p id="102b">Get distracted Down some Fentanyl Vodka MedMen Edibles!</p><p id="e8ef"><b><i>DOUSE THE PAIN</i></b></p><p id="820b">Drown yourself in a pretty cocktail an American Flag dangling off its edge. What about a Dirty Martini? A Skinny Margarita? A Manhattan, hold the rocks? Hold the salt! Hold the nachos! Hold the wings! <b>Hold the UN resolutions!</b></p><p id="4ac1">Watch the massacre unfold from the toasty warmth of your $3,500 Eiderdown Cuddledown comforter or the stench of your park bench

Options

and second home at the public library.</p><p id="2558">You choose either/or rich or poor pro-gun, no-gun us/them I/we.</p><p id="224d">Friends? The Simpson? The Sopranos? Anderson Cooper? Tucker Carlson? Amy Goodman? Taylor Swift?</p><p id="6424">America, you’re c-r-a-c-k-i-n-g like an egg over easy sizzling on the balding head of Vladimir Putin — the shiny forehead of Joseph Biden, the firey, combustible head of you know.</p><p id="46a8">Let that runny yoke drip into your fat brains and humanize them.</p><p id="df51">You’ve either cracked, America. Or you’re on crack? Put down Uncle Don’s assault rifle, head to your nearest shrink and get back to being the Prozac Nation we all know and love.</p><p id="ed28">In Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “A Defence of Poetry,” he proffers that poetry is a powerful force for social and political change. My poetry is always imbued with some socio-political observation; generally, it’s more subtle.</p><p id="3c63">My writing serves as a way for me to navigate the complexities of our socio-political landscape, allowing me to distill the tumultuous happenings into verses that bear witness to the struggles and contradictions of being human.</p><p id="6c3c">Sometimes — Pain is political. Death is political. Life is political.</p><p id="7475">Poetry is political.</p></article></body>

Poetry | Life

America — You’re Cracking

A personal reflection

America, you’re cracking splintering into bits and shards your tabula corroding and oxidizing and degrading from despair and division.

Cracked — your sidewalks your buildings your bridges your families your beliefs your values — crushed from the pressure of shifting moral ground.

Rumble to the Right Thunder to the Left. A widening fissure of crumbling ideologies.

Crash! Bam! Boom!

Tectonic plates of geo-political differences, Explosions from the disgruntled masses, ideologies of strife flying in all directions, seismic theft of clear perceptions.

No place to duck and hide.

Look out!

Baby bassinets turned destructive shrapnel. Propane Tanks incinerate the neighbor next door.

Patio furniture — now projectiles. Green, blue, and black garbage bins —hardware munitions. Toddler tricycles — weapons of mass destruction. Flagpoles — projectile arrows aimed at your heart. The red, white, and bloodied blue — the shroud of your conscience.

C O M P L I C I T Y

Duck!

Here come —

the severed tongues of Al Jazeera journalist Shireen Abu Akleh and Palestinian female freelance journalist Ola Atallah

The skilled hands of —

Doctors without Borders Dr. Mahmoud Abu Nujaila Dr. Ahmad Al Sahar! Dr Ziad Al-Tatari

The bloodied heads

of 100 aid workers

The crushed conscience of —

Canadian-Israeli peace activist Vivian Silver

The penned wisdom of —

Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer Palestinian poet Hiba Abu Nada

DUCK ALREADY!

TURN ON THE TV!

Get distracted Down some Fentanyl Vodka MedMen Edibles!

DOUSE THE PAIN

Drown yourself in a pretty cocktail an American Flag dangling off its edge. What about a Dirty Martini? A Skinny Margarita? A Manhattan, hold the rocks? Hold the salt! Hold the nachos! Hold the wings! Hold the UN resolutions!

Watch the massacre unfold from the toasty warmth of your $3,500 Eiderdown Cuddledown comforter or the stench of your park bench and second home at the public library.

You choose either/or rich or poor pro-gun, no-gun us/them I/we.

Friends? The Simpson? The Sopranos? Anderson Cooper? Tucker Carlson? Amy Goodman? Taylor Swift?

America, you’re c-r-a-c-k-i-n-g like an egg over easy sizzling on the balding head of Vladimir Putin — the shiny forehead of Joseph Biden, the firey, combustible head of you know.

Let that runny yoke drip into your fat brains and humanize them.

You’ve either cracked, America. Or you’re on crack? Put down Uncle Don’s assault rifle, head to your nearest shrink and get back to being the Prozac Nation we all know and love.

In Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “A Defence of Poetry,” he proffers that poetry is a powerful force for social and political change. My poetry is always imbued with some socio-political observation; generally, it’s more subtle.

My writing serves as a way for me to navigate the complexities of our socio-political landscape, allowing me to distill the tumultuous happenings into verses that bear witness to the struggles and contradictions of being human.

Sometimes — Pain is political. Death is political. Life is political.

Poetry is political.