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Luck of the Draw

Paul Lojeski: They beatin and killin dark peoples and foreigners and I truly feel bad but see I got a pass with this white skin.
White Privilege

luck of the draw

they beatin and killin
dark peoples and foreigners
and I truly feel bad but see
I got a pass with this white skin.
and the sun do shine bright
on the white color, passin
quick through blood and guts
flowin down alleys and byways.
I’m sad bout the hurtin and all
but a boy’s got to play the hand
he’s been dealt. and I got white
cards, man. I got white cards.

The Lies Get Told

The lies get told,
burrowing into
history, where they
fester and bleed
a sour puss into
pure spring water,
into still evening
air, into the quick
voices of innocence.
Lies like: You can
be anything you
want to be, this is
the greatest country
of all time, love is
all you need, dream
it to be it and
the best things
in life are free.
And on they roll
over young malleable
minds, the golden
clichés upholding this
prison’s cold walls.
Land of the free,
home of the brave,
den of thieves, liars,
jailers, thugs, con
artists and gunmen.
The lies get told,
burrowing into history,
deep into the marrow
of all these fragile bones.

everyday desolation

at work seated before the bright screen,
staring blankly straight ahead, hours
in the chair, without movement,
without thought, emptied of desire,
intent, robotic. at quitting time, hitting
the jam-packed road, stuck in traffic,
motionless at the wheel, staring blankly
straight ahead, without thought, emptied
of desire, intent, robotic. later at home
sunk in the couch, staring blankly
at the bright screen, without movement,
without thought, emptied of desire,
intent, robotic. then in bed, dreaming
of a bright screen, disappearing into
the bright screen, crying out, pleading
for desire, for intent. the alarm clock rings.

Wherever We Go

1.

The bone of existence beaten down
by the tiny fists of men, beating
the dirt, beating the bleeding dirt.

2.

He stood in a field staring up at
the night sky, thinking about Mars
and how they’re planning

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to colonize it—have settlements
of humans living in glass-domed
structures—like ants in an ant farm—

and he wondered, how long before
the first fist forms and a hard blow
is struck, before red jealousy,

the heart-rattle for power or some
ancient tribal voices shake
the manufactured

air, screaming for war. It will happen
as surely as the sun will shine
for another billion years

before heating up and sizzling away
all life on Earth. Wherever we go,
we’ll drag it with us, that leaden

darkness of violence, spreading across
the solar system—wherever we go,
the bone of existence being beaten down.

Dicks Swinging in DC

Dicks swinging
in DC, big
and small
banging
against history
strapped
to the wheel.
Dicks roaring
threats of war
like none ever
seen, suffering
for the ages,
while
the pestilence
spreads like
a starving plague
from city to city,
town to town.
Dicks swinging
across the land,
clawing at truth,
tearing the air,
singing anthems
of death.
Dicks swinging
in America:
catch the beat,
grab your partner,
hit the dance
floor, kick up
your heels
and do-si-do.

Paul Lojeski