what you wish for in poetry

there’ll be fliers there’ll be fires
there’ll be lies and there’ll be lyres
there’ll be guitars drums and guns
and bombs and knives and fife
fathers daughters son and wife
bring an end to your oh-so-boring life
or maybe
just bring the end

when the revolution calls
tear down statues tear down walls and you’ll
tell yourself the next thing will be better
but the ocean won’t get any wetter
the spilled blood won’t get any redder
the revolution may just be
sometimes a necessary dream
but never make mistake
it ain’t your friend
the revolution is nobody’s friend