This is an idea that I call a political meditation in poetry. It is titled “Mexico Will Pay For The Wall.”
Trade wars save jobs
I can screw whores cause I’m saving America for Jesus
Mexico will pay for the wall
Who cares who pays for the wall?
It doesn’t have to mean anything
There is no communication
This is just the sound of a man who loves his own voice
This is a voice with an audience because everyone thinks it’s their own voice
They tell themselves the things they want to hear
Like, Mexico will pay for the wall
I have words. I have the best words.
Words don’t mean things. Words are just feelings.
I could say nonsense shit and the folks would still get it.
Mexico will pay for the covfefe.
There is no lie when I am the only reality
You must get rid of these nineteenth-century ideas about the laws of nature. We make the laws of nature.
War is peace
Freedom is Slavery
Ignorance is strength
And Mexico will pay for the wall
My soul is a pool of acid, bubbling over, overflowing
Eating the wood of the furnishings, running gutters into the marble
Scarring the foundations upon which I stand
Cutting the air with a dominating stink that everyone else in the room
Pretends not to notice
Because Mexico will pay for the wall.
My government can’t investigate me
I AM THE LAW
Respect the badge
He earned it with his blood
Why didn’t mom ever love me
Hiding behind the curtain in the oval office staring out the window looking for fbi trucks and holding a gun barrel under my chin
And Mexico will pay for the wall.
(Inspired in part by ‘Whitey on the Moon‘ by Gil Scott-Heron. The Revolution will be brought to you by Nike.)