Blackout

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Hot asphalt consumes opportunity as
the ecstasizing colors of yesterday’s dream
fade into the hum drum black of today’s bitter reality.
It takes with it all your hopes
and dreams.
Killing the free thoughts you once had,
but never will again.
It is too late for the people.
To late for every artist, and activist.
There will be no more lovers,
or musicians
just pencil-pushers
and do-gooders.
We must fight back.
With spray paint, with poetry,
with something.
Because otherwise the world will collapse into
the 2nd dimension.
Your creative mind, will be criminalized.
Don’t let the creeping fingers of censorship
get a hold of freedoms throat and squeeze till there is nothing left
but pencil shavings and paint stained pants.
Don’t let your brain have a
blackout.





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