revolutionary metronome

a flame is burning and she refuses to be put out

shes the type of fire that shines through the thickest of fog

a leading light to brighter days

pass the pollution of this virulent smog

occupying this urban decay

landscaped and manufactured from a culture

sickened and plagued by insincerity

we our addicted to gross domestic necessities

like cars and concrete

asphalt and asinine clocks

a pocket watch keeps ticking

trying to keep us all on time

so we wont miss the train

we begin walking in obedient lines

then funneled into cattle cars

we set off on our final destination

with paradise promised into the horizon

and the pain of our histories blind sighted behind us

but the rails run thin and thinner

and eventually they run out

right on the edge of this genocidal cliff

we euphemistically know better as industrial civilization

so one boxcar at a time

we make the climactic dive

even though we unequivocally know better

yet the brakes are never applied

parachutes are never supplied

we are denied and then denied again

even driftwood on occasion will faultier and sink

just as a boat of lead can be engineered well enough to float

but Archimedes principle follows our lead

and this time, it too, fails under the weight of denial

but theres another tick tick tick

to counter progress' clock

a bomb that has been placed

strategically somewhere in this city

and shes ready to go

shes ready to blow

shes ready to fight the capitalist fucks

that stole and sold her life for profit

all before she was even birthed

but shes not a prophet born

shes a revolutionary metronome

setting the pace and tone

to a much needed insurrection

correction, shes more than a mere tool

but she does not have a problem

using the masters tools to tear down the masters house

correction, shell evict that racist fuck and use that house

to shelter transients outlaws and runaways

correction, shell use the masters tools to create

a masterpiece that is unrelenting

a spirited art piece

that refuses to be framed stagnating on walls

shes the type of art that incorporates itself

into the most subtle walks of life

and she walks for life

but not in the charity 10 k manner

instead in a way that equates

man versus her

subject verb object

she fights it

she flows in and out of the dead of night

a moon lit ghost who's tired of being haunted

by a doomed future and unfulfilled past

she strikes back

and she strikes hard

and then harder

and then hardest

she strikes the match

that burns down all previous

physical and mental borders

a heat that burns with such intensity

that it has a spiritual propensity

to purge out this cultural disease

we all have been suffering under

and no longer shall we sing

“you really got a hold on me”

because instead

we now hold ourselves

and embrace each other

blurring the divides of

our selves and each other

into soon forgotten obscurity

her flames keep us warm

as we unpave the path back to our homes

it is soon replaced with weeds

and then young forest growth

and we struggle side by side with the land

sprouting up from these ancient scarred soils

her flame becomes the sunlight we are reaching for

a warmth radiating intermittent life

taking and giving

become neutered terms once again

as we begin to

grow and decay

live and die

rot and thrive

spoil and build

on and on

in and out

up and down

once again

it becomes all the same

as long as shes out there burning bright

and as long as she still refuses to be extinguished

we can become the soil and it can become us

we can enter once again

into a relationship that makes a little sense

instead of this current one that makes little sense

no more beginnings and no more endings

just continual light and life

some cycles are not meant to be broken