rough birth in poetry

the frantic trumpeting of used-up myths
the lawman-murderers in the old streets
trying to reverse the advance of freedom
these are not a resurgence
the now is a rough birth
of something at least
a little bit better

we drag our feet
on forgiving ourselves
our fucked-up pasts
because it’d make us responsible
for our yet unknown futures

we bring our baggage
wherever we go
but if we try
we can change ourselves
or at least collapse
into the flow of somewhere new

are you prepared to let your better self
beat you down and kill you
and take over your life?
should you?
should you be?

maybe it’s only “better”
maybe it only “gets things done”
because it is an amoral asshole
because your “better” self is
cruel and insufferable
maybe it is this ineffective you
considered and compassionate
who doesn’t always “win”
maybe this is exactly who
a braver better future needs

maybe all the horror now
is the winner’s fault
and that’s who needs
to take the dive
and shut up for a while
all these years of single people
trying to win
is why we all are lost
maybe it’s time
for that armed and greedy
bastard part of ourselves
to fucking yield instead
at least try it
for once

what has all this “winning” got us anyway?

centuries of rich history
distilled down to
“endless mediocre bread sticks”?

Christian fundamentalists
telling us to remember
the reason for the season
ignoring that the reason
is actually the winter solstice?

racist cops
pissed off
they have a black president
so they shoot little kids in the streets
with glee?

winning got us nothing
but blood on our hands
so lets change our plans
and be
humane losers
lets give up on this age
lets ring in the future
though there might be a little more pain

but like a rough birth
there’s so much to gain