Restoration is coming

I was inspired while listening to Donald Trump insist upon the need to “restore” law and order.  I hate to attribute too much inspiration to any one political blowhard, because the fact remains that the circumstances that created today’s demagogue existed yesterday and will, in all probability, exist tomorrow.  So Donald, don’t let this go to your head.

The restoration in effect,
of that ever-elusive state.
Where restful nerves and
leery eyes stick fast to 
hallowed ground.

How the calamity came to be
many manic minds never
settled.  It was, it is, may be
unto forever, but no never
mind.

The restoration will spread
like seeds along the distended
bloat.  And endure the 
sensation of prophecy fulfilled,
mouth agape and hands stolen still.

All-and-none

Count me among your many,
but count me not at all.
By skin, or taste, or refrain
I am but my own.

But by breath, and life and wonder?
Consider me your brother.

I hope to share the space of ours
in peace.
Though I may be quiet and
oft reserved, I am peace.

Never will you watch my movements,
for they shall not hurt you.

A view to private interest

I worry now about rule with a "view to private interest,"
and I do so while I hear the call of greatness and declarations
regarding primacy of place.

I am not a country, but a man.  
Am a working man, a human of this present
with a desire to exist peacefully and fluidly.
My primacy of place is fixed by my love of self, 
not the screeching of banshees propping themselves
upon the backs of others.

But the great spirit that protects me is vulnerable.
Hijackers, proponents of a collective disintegration, 
work their voodoo on the frazzled, hoping to string
us along together.

They feed on the sores of the body ideologic, 
drawing strength from the bubbling excretion
of the wilted body
as if imbibing a sacred elixir.