the path we wander from

the propaganda spiralizes
boomarangs
echos
in the electric aether
we breathe
psychopaths define the path
we wander from
to graft health and safety to the stake
a mass of hosts of others
gone
what remains remains
in pockets we haven’t occupied
yet
I walk in the weird weather
the sun burns me
the air sticks to me like a swarm
of deerflies
eyes stinging under the checkerboard skies
ears ringing from deep inside the cloud
of white noise
the failure of imagination

they

seems clear

the galleries have no artists
who face the truth with their brushes
and machines
of the state
the minds voters hired to pillage and rape
intelligently
liberated
from approval by the mob
of us
keepers of the keys turning round
and round a ring
in a ring
in a ring
like a bell made out of the walls
of industry’s empires
a just and peaceful world
divides all the rules
into one
the word and the gun
whose fingerprints are all over
every dreadful event
the official version
eats its own vomit
for the reality show of shows
where sweet dreams
are destroyed
sleep now
*

the path we wander from

Anthony DiMichele

Friday Harbor, United States

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • Andrew Nawroski
  • charliethetramp
  • JRGarland
  • Ann  Warrenton
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