My eye keeps twitching
My soul being crushed by this stress
No one wants to hear my bitching
Pondering how to get out of this mess
I’ve got to look out for #1
Everyone else is doing the same
Need to survive until the setting sun
I’ve always heard I’m in a losing game
Civil disobedience
Marching against their sullen grain
Public executions of our citizens
The ones whom systematically resemble our pain
Exhibitions of our worst character traits
The trembling hands with transcribed blood
Outside of the panoramic eye
Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood
A taciturn refusal to simply exist
Check your feed for what revolutionaries say
Bold proclamations & campaign slogans
But eventually the media hype fades away
Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye
Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead
Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg
But the people still live with a price on their head
“We are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter.”
― Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
Captain Q 