I am not the narrator of this poem.
It’s just how I feel people think:
I sit upon my bench
Judging the world
Wanting to make all right.
Eagerly I search
For the final solution.
If I could be idle,
And smoke marijuana
And twiddle my thumbs
With the remote control
That kills the villain
In the pixie dust.
If I could just hallucinate
My sexual desires
And all day, all night
Spend my time at the feelies
Playing… Murdering…
Wouldn’t life be nice?
It would be the dream I have.
No man could offend me.
No woman could touch me.
I’d have all I ever wanted
In my pocket.
Therefore, I will pick up my rifle
And join the cause
To bring this to the masses.
Or… I could be just the opposite extreme
And fight to preserve what is already here
Claiming it was never broken to begin with.
Either way…
