Seasons Greetings from Ferguson

The star spangled banner hung upside-down;

now, without an indictment, right-side up, oddly,

tear gas rockets trailing sparks above the red glare of

SEASONS GREETINGS

strung across the street, people below running, yelling,

testing the cops, tipping cars, setting buildings ablaze,

all so sweet in their Guy Fawkes masks,

little hoodies, Timberland boots, Earth muffins all,

Anarchists, Socialists…God love ‘em.

Ah, America!  I hear you singing!

But what is this?  It’s nothing, a lullaby.

Is that all you’ve got?

Listen to another fine fascist:

“Damn you, sing: Goddamn!”

Hear 1919 for a voice from the belly.

Cable news, not beer halls?

I-Phones instead of brick bats?

YouTube clips in lieu of bombs?

Come on, it’s candy-ass, nothing.

What must our undocumented immigrants think,

Or those sleepers with expired visas?

Give them hope: charge the barricades!

Grab some money; it’s the final solution:

become anathema to yourself, but first,

turn the streets into sheets of fire.

Oh, you’ll need flames far hotter than these to melt hearts.

SK 11/24/2014