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The Onus (Not Me, Us)

I am not immune, I am not alone, I can write a line

and not worry

about the ones I may have forgotten. 

 

I am part of the atmosphere, part of the great wealth

of knowledge

that happens when we’re not looking.

 

He’s a crook!  A flim-flam man!  And I’ll be damned

if Cohen

wasn’t telling the truth (but you can rehire

 

Elliot Abrams).  The American night

has soiled itself, and indispensable white men

are as truculent as ever.  But did you see that freshman class

 

in the front row

bringing the heat?!  Ocasio-Cortez, Ayanna Pressley, Rashida Tlaib – 

you are our dream!  Those who think progressives are pandering

 

need to take another look (at that great shit-stained American night)

and wonder

the fuck we have to lose                                  It’s whatever

 

quietly subverts the public – perhaps, like the gains

of the civil rights movement               left to be reflected

and played out

 

in and through a market system

flushed of any short or long term memory.

Until – faced with nothing

 

but this face value – we are inoculated

into a reality – a collective amnesia, autoimmune

reaction to grief, lost of each other – girded, now, only to individual survival,

 

and thinking it’s okay!  An opiate of the masses, hypnotism of the public square –

another form

of slavery.

 

Then we awaken

from the beast, realizing

they’ve been deflecting the onus.  This was never our individual responsibility,

 

we’ve just been confessing

our entire lives.

 

 

 

 

Posted 02/28/19
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