Ramael Ashta Poet Rhyme

oh say can't you see?

my fellow Americans
welcome to the regime
where the shot is part of the show. 

human rights have been abolished for the middle class, the skid row, 

the butcher the baker, the history maker, and all of the below. 

your white card has been declined.
they will use your blood to cover their sins 

file your complaints to the void.
The American dream? Today, it ends.


Now, you feed your kids to the flame,
all in the name of moloch and ba'al, 

then you feed on the ash, or sell it for cash, till the stock market crashes and fails. 

my fellow Americans
welcome to the regime
where they'll use the blood of children to cover their sins,
look you dead in the eye,
and say they're clean. 

welcome to the city of angels.
the only place where you can find a woman you swear looks like Sabrina Carpenter, on a row of billboard signs, riding a hockey stick like a #15 pen.
I don't care how many times you lick that racket 
or how hard you spank yourself with it.
I don't care...and I will never care about tennis.


and to your left, half-quarter arsed projects. 
plastered with the same Sabrina Carpenter publicity stunt double for the next two blocks on your commute home. 


above one of the hockey stick jockey clones in various poses, 

a fading, ripped sheet of paper in shotty Arial font, that says "are you gay and..." 

now I can't say the word on TV. but it rhymes with how i feel, which is "broken-hearted".


and below everything i just mentioned, pools of wasted oil so slick it reflects the sky,
offering the illusion of a sinkhole 
to a parking lot underground, 

but no
this is but a wide puddle, half of a quarter of an inch tall. 

AND THIS...

...splash...

...is the bottom.

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