Come Upon It...
COME UPON IT
Come upon the city
With it's streets of rubble and decay
Come upon it's winding country roads--
concentrate over with ruts and potholes.
Still small town roads
With leaning, toppled buildings
Piled with people alongside
people
and junk
Stare out and are stared at in return
by cops-
Staring. Who ride abruptly by
Unaware, incurious, except to ridicule.
Mindless lost people
Selling alcohol distilled blood
To further their distillation.
Demeaned crying people
Putting all their energies in one bag
for just one more
& no, not chance-
for that hope is long gone?
Just one more big kick
Before that to goes.
Come upon it
Come upon the city
With it's streets of corpses, hyped robots,
Walking around their dying brothers
So as not to contaminate themselves.
Past abandoned cars
Too depleted by the greedy horde
to even pollute the filthy air.
By the merchants and owners of our flesh
Owened oweners of a decaying dawn
Come upon it
And ask-
How did we so fuck up?
Kay Shannon
Article
Subjects
Freeing John Sinclair
Old News
Ann Arbor Sun