these truncated lines
are built with the spines
of words meant to stand
in the liberated land
between your ears
beyond your fears
through your tears
can you hear?
a call to More
than the media's roar?
if we only read what was
rather than write what can be
who really controls
our destiny?
not a blue, or a red
a cop, thug, or fed
your future is YOURS,
made with the thoughts
in your head.
the thoughts in your head;
what are they making?
are they carrying their weight?
or are they just taking
up precious space
behind your face,
causing you worry,
and hiding real grace?
they are ABLE
to change material circumstance
without the old school song and dance.
so would you try, and take a chance
on envisioning more beauty,
don't just count dead bodies.
makers ain't morticians. 
we don't embalm.
we psalm.
we bomb
with words
written in a certain way
to change the direction
of co-opted ways.