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To Tread and Eat Snakes

I find me

beneath the light,

smelling early morning

concrete;

Left wing

ideology makes

me itch.

The Right

has too many

racists,

fat cats,

and serpents

for me to stand

or sit still.

Liberty is a buzzword,

hollow,

small,

a slur in the mouths

of people

that currently

walk around

the Oval Office,

filling it with an additional

layer of stench,

hypocrisy,

death.

I attack the day,

like Douglass,

Wells, or Huey Newton,

Huey Newton,

Huey

Newton.

To brave this cold,

breaths

must be heavy,

tools must have the proper

weight because

revolution

still stirs the spirit,

a ghost that memorizes

the blues

of its past,

struggles to find beauty,

but it finds

the necessary

space to grow

in traffic.

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