The Resistance of R.P McMurphy
They once were jagged diamonds in Hell's Canyon.
A bit rough around the edges.
Sloppy and homespun but honest.
Unity was their strength.
A streak of black lipstick in the whisky morning mist.
Over time, they all gave in. That's not a crime.
Call it desperation in a bubble of inhumanity.
Caved in to the water and wind of rancid government.
Freedom filleted from the bones of burning time.
The spirit smoothed down like a creek stone.
No ruggedness or jaggedness left.
One stone looking just like the other:
conformist
questionless
put in place
wild horses lassoed
from wildflower plains
broken in
smooth brained
tamed.
Like R.P McMurphy, a cuckoo bird trapped in a metal nest.
Post-electroshock therapy blank-eyed
The chief putting a pillow over his life sentence.
Gave back to him his spirit animal.
Freed him back into ruggedness.
Jagged independence.
Pray now, for the awakening.
Another, pre-shocked R.P McMurphy.
Pray for the old, juicy fruit chewing, chief.
Stalking bison by the light of a harvest moon.
Pray for the spilt blood of a virgin resistance.
Escaping electric pulses and straitjackets
Eclipsing the new world order of infinite rape and constant clack.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
