Watch, as You Ref Hate, USA

The puppet show has arrived, on a street more of wear, than a tired money man with fluorescent chicken hair

It has arrived, white/blue gloves, a few kids, boxers above,

and while you were watching, the colour red, was slowly washed and drained of love

The hand slipped in has never slipped out and an arena with all box and no clout

And here, kids of today, born with lungs, born with gay, born with the ghosts of ‘the olden days’, remain stunned in his daze, and in his example they will graze

With hands in gravel, stones in pockets, we’ll entrust USA and their rockets, and their ‘fastest world economy’, a future richer than astrology

Could pose in papers, a battle faker, than his display of ‘rule breaker’ more like an ‘alternative’ mind taker

A puppet of the puppeteer, but don’t wake her, the conscious mind sleeps in Russian craters

Servants to government stand far away, and applaud the parents who will simply say “at least no revolution came to play” and leave their children there to pay

The plot thickens, Judy is grabbed, by the proverbial and literal crotch, a tribute to all the progression Punch performs, while children sit and watch

While the standard is set, to build walls and to play games, the vision of the youth is damaged, cold, sad, defensive and restrained
As their eyes turn to the colour of his arms as they’re told this validates a race, humans-grevious forms of harm, hidden wrists pertaining cysts that pop as he chooses to baby farm, a theft of choice to all women who are forced birth on his watch, as they scream like snoozed alarms

All the labels for this theatre, an oasis of disarray, where you must drink from its white water, a poison puddle, USA.

Rosie May Collins

 

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