fascism

Herd

My shins ignite like pistons hitting the air/gas mixture in a combustion chamber,

I have been marching for too long,

The grey gravel beneath my unfortunate feet are accumulating the soot from this greasey pack of youth,

The men in the black masks keep shouting,

Left, they shout,

Right, then left again,

They take extra care when it's time to funnel us into our respective lifestyles,

Appearing like toll booths on an expressway,

Each archway is labeled,

And,

A quick glance through the archway shows activity on the other side,

The path is paved,

Smiling parents are handing out certificates,

A fresh change of clothes,

There is excitement in the air,

Most of the kids seem happy,

Some are herded into engineering,

Some psychology,

Some mathematics,

A few brave one's choose defense,

But there is only one grey box,

That has no label,

There are no parents on the other side,

No clothes being issued,

The gravel path beyond it seems to strech on into oblivion,

I feel an unbelievable attraction to this grey box,

I allow my feet to guide me to its entrance,

Where it seems no line has ever been formed,

There is no one there to welcome me,

To hand me new clothes,

To shake my hand, congratulations,

It is so,

Comforting,

Genuine,

Once again I give into my desire,

To ease myself through the gate,

In disbelief that no one can stop me,

The men in black masks simply watching,

Guns at their side,

Finally

I have reached a sanctuary

I have all of this earth to myself

All of this life

I will leave no stone unturned, I say

That's when the archway closes behind me,

A single black mask struts out from the fortification,

With a stool and a revolver,

He places down the stool and the gun,

Looks at me,

And slowly walks back behind the archway,

Locking the door behind him,

The guards on top the booths have out their lawn chairs,

Eyes trained on me,

Waiting,

Intently,

As if it's the start of a boxing match,

They're waiting for me break,

As they did,

When they let themselves die,

For their handshakes and certificates,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this with a head cold so if it's weird that's probably why

View mypersonalpoems777's Full Portfolio

Politically Correct Christmas

There is a Jesus fetus
And condoms on my tree,
Because today is Christmas--
And Christmas is PC.

 

My Santa is a lesbian,
Her skin is dark as night--
She came along with tranny Claus
With clitoral delight.

 

She promised free abortions,
Free tests for HIV,
While spreading guacamole
On my GBLT.

 

I thought I was in heaven,
I thought I was in hell,
When I heard Santa moaning
Hoe-moe with anal bells.

 

For Christmas is for giving
Your lover in the rear--
So rejoice my little ones
And spread the Christmas queer.

 

         December 25, 2013
    

View ashaumyan's Full Portfolio