to sit on a cure (a poem)

Saturday, March 15, 2025

When will it be sin to sit on a cure—

to sit on innovation,
to block progress,
to paywall revolutionary technology?

The haves and have-nots,
times 100 per day, overlap—
the next thing, knee-jerk,
rubber nickel,
squirrel, squirrel.

PR, the pseudo,
too many cooks in the kitchen.

Time for another drug war,
make up a way
to squeeze some more dollars
from the citizenry.

Use the opium of the masses,
old-time religion,
pitchforks and blind nationalist fervor.

We’re alone.
This is our religion,
what our fathers died for.

Vaporware, flip a coin
into the wishing well—
crypto, sell, sell,
on the front lawn,
sitting in a red, all-electric.

We have what we need—
solutions tied up in economy,
siloed in the hands of a few,
and it ain’t coming back anytime soon.

We will find the villains,
the key players—
the world’s trippin’,
it’s much worse,
and look at what you are seeing.

The witches, the Jezebels—
they’re plotting, weaving webs,
gonna come take power,
scramble the fighters,
this is culture phobic,
I don’t want to be a nothing.

Get the wood,
use your energy in fear,
build the pyre,
get ready—
your entire day prepping the fires.

Divide—
polarity maxed out,
the dial turnt,
we are manipulated,
like five layers of inception,
building inside us all—
crumbling.

Line up and raise the torches,
this creed makes my emptiness
feel just a little better.

Warming by the darkside fires—
hate, anger, fear, narcissism—
free pass, no justice,
impervious, untouchable.

American dream in my Hellcat,
230, into a wall,
and the fool is ejected,

turned into a viral TikTok—
like and share.

Body down,
it looks like AI.

That ain’t real.
Do you care?

Blade Runner meta,
bite from the apple,
the snakes gave us.

Skinjob.
Real boys,
turning into donkeys,
nose growing.

Can’t escape your want,
your void leading you
across the world
only to head back home
empty-handed.

Working hard,
everyone a label printer
with custom fonts,
a full wheel of tape.

Let’s have fun,
stick it on there,
do this, push that button,
and export it all,
back into the mix.

Star Wars: Episode 24.

Same war, new skins.
Another empire, another rebellion.
Still waiting on the hero that never comes.
Still buying tickets.