Control

😈 

Control

That thing shines like gold

24 kt gold

large almost hanging in heaven

and while fires and floods

creep closer as we slumber

we look for that closet

safe and dark

that door to keep out

all dangers all fears

so we can stand tall

chest out

arms straight by our side.

Control is the military

marching lock step

it sleeps in our bed

sits at our table

lifts weights at the gym

not like the careful precision

of the military

but the feeling sitting in our belly.

It’s more than a bomb

waiting to explode

it’s fireworks on the bus

pyrotechnics lit by a girl

bullied, shamed, raped

all the spit still in her hair

from centuries of public shame

the goat who will not be spanked

any more

sad but at least not a classroom

of killed kindergarten kids

products of a vagina

we just hate with venom.

There is no control

on the market

that’s worth talking about.

Alberta is now free to dig up

the rest of Turtle island

not controlled by explosive missiles.

This planet could be renamed

Done!

Onto the next.