I have a friend—some-
time bandmate—Daily…
Whining, wringing his hands.
Distressed and depressed—
anxious and agitated—he
Knows nuclear war and
Armageddon are on the
agenda if Boss Tweet’s
Back—big lies, gas-lighting
another four years…
My meditation
and its compassion
keep me from screaming,
“Come on out of that
cannabis cloud, read
writing on other walls—
smell some sub rosa
burgeoning of black
lives—smell the Resistance!”
Instead, I celebrate long stem red roses stretching
Seattle, City of Angels, Tha Town, Minneapolis,
Kenosha, Atlanta, Louisville, Baltimore, Ferguson—
Chicago-Red State teachers’ strikes to The City of Roses!
Instead, I celebrate The City of Roses—
Red roses metastasizing in teargas;
Red roses blooming beneath baton blows—
springing up on Solidarity Street, opening
behind Walls of Moms
Red roses kidnapped in camouflaged fertilizer—
blooming behind walls of ICE; flowering in fascism:
foul compost of a wilting, shriveling empire…
Red roses exploding in FOX-box foot-soldiers’ faces—
silencing lying lawyers;
Red roses burgeoning in blood of John Browns:
Red roses entangled in blue-violent pigmented
thorns—blue symbolizing mystery: How thorns
are being Overcome…
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
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