a wisp of sulphur

I would love
to be a hero
carrying
the banner of truth
in protest of the big lie
I would love to oppose
the architects of war and
tyranny and oh how they hate
anyone who’s not a redneck
I would live behind bars
for the sake of the women
and children and to see
the cutting of the ribbon
at the entrance
to the global village
but I know that
my freedom march
is a dead man walking
into the jaws of the monster
oh how he loves my fury!
how he is warmed by the
friction of our clashing views
and measures his strength
by the length of my hatred
no, I will not feed
the beast but will stand
still in the eye of
his hurricane rage—
he is no equal to
my quiet meditations
when I arise
he will be gone
leaving only a
wisp of sulphur
in the air
above god’s garden