Occupy That

The hippies are right,
because they're being picked,
like junkie scabs.
They smell something foul.
They are good at that.

The tambourines and cell phones pulsate; it's time for another great push into the devil's face.
Plastic tents and dirty feet, circles of fury in fiery streets....

HEY Old ones, this is no game -
This is a fight to purge poisons from the black lungs of America.
Back into hot pink innocence.
No more politically correct B.S.
The nest is burning; the hatchlings are jumping
to the concrete 
for better or worse.
Now occupy that!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace