Samuel Alito II

I'm dancing in the spider webs

entombed by the idealisms

of a breastbone

frosted

from the fear of change.

Samuel Alito (naked without his crying bitch of a wife)

wide eyed

at the beautiful white buildings

that make up our pride

(congratulatory American's

drowning in a fake kind of applause.)

Coretta Scott King (naked without her lover of peace)

buried

and hand held with the past

tearful as she marches simultaneously through Martin's funeral wisdom

(the body dies but the movement goes on).

State of the Union

our yearly communion;

the immunity

of fear -

change is (or so he puts it) :

unwanted -

man

and

man

does not

equal

right.

Embryo

and

science

equals

fright -

(I stopped fearing change

after I stopped watching cartoons.)

So put me in the ground;

Lady Liberty

with her torch ablaze

god forsaken femininity

silenced at last

by a vote

(something along the lines of

"come on baby

stop screaming

or I'll really do you in"

Conservative rapists with their wires

crisscrossed.)

The haze I see

has laid me out

quietly

contrasting my pale skin

with the earth

that you hide me in.

I'll live with "Samuel Alito"

as a curse on my breath

stomp my feet

and sing along to your gospel.

God

loves

me!

God

really

hates

me! - and

you

just want me to shut up about it.

Conservatism sets me on fire

my skin

black and blue,

my thoughts aghast

and my eyes glued to the screen.

I'd like to take

(that son of a Bush)

with his

Alito-flavored friend

and stand in a bathroom stall.

Let them see frozen girls close up

watch from a perspective blurred through tears

and leers -

give it up

fuck it up

(Watch her boys

for you love

-oh so greatly-

the passion of all us women

(all us American Women).

Watch her as she stabs

inside herself with knives

and watch

-closely

because

you'll

never

see

it

again-

as the blood pours,

a pool of red creation

listen to her silent moan

and cradle

the sight of

a little girl

alone

in the hands

of an unfounded illegal act

-because

come on people

we all know where

that's going.)

Shy away from that grave sight

throw the dirt down and don't forget to say your "Hail Bush's"

: Our Leader, who art in power

feared and hated be thy name :

Eject my stillborn liberties

like miscarried children

put them to rest

and watch the world

grow -

peopled

with

unwanted

things.

Sacrifice your hunger boys

limp yourselves

in thick warm hands

and hide

your awareness behind shower currents -

touch a girl with fear

(too chaste)

from the clear crystal visibility of her boxed in state.

Put roses

on all those graves,

all those accidents

mistakes

fuck ups

(revamp your perfect oligarchy)

It's all so simple

when you spell it out

through reality -

my choice

is divorced

from myself -

blinded by god

and faith

and bullshit

red

raw

iniquity

(don't blame what you say

on some hidden

urban posse

that you have going on with Jesus.

You and your evangelical entourage don't

control me or the things that I stand up

and applaud for.)

And Alito and his crying wife

with the bad haircut

(tear it up)

hit the town

-paint it conformist-

-paint it saintly-

too angelic for me and my bones-

put me back in the ground

that's where me

and my liberal ideas belong

(right?)

In the ground with safety

and choice.

And to all you lovely little girls

who daily

through up your hands

in abolishment (for your own basic right of choice)

don't think you're immune to touch

to mistakes

to your own unique style of oversight.

So in your world

every little girl

Whose belly grows

(through your idea of abnormalities anyway)

should just live like that -

restrained

within herself

allowed

by law to scream for things she doesn't want.

Don't think yourselves untouched

there may come a time

when you'd at least like the choice to choose.

So this is my contraction for the government,

this is my stiff finger poetry;

my virginal moans

and

my whorish yells

my spit in your face

my malice that you can trace

from

generation

to

generation.

My astonishment

at all of these requited changes

.spin.

.spin.

drop that coffin down

until it hits the ground.

.drop.

.drop.

everything on top of it,

cover everything we've learned in the past

like dirty little secrets

as though

I won't still be here to whisper it

when the sun goes down.

Walk my back alleys

and shout it in protest.

I'll send my money to illegal organizations

(in the name of justification again!)

Waste your time

with trying to stop me!

your constitutional loopholes

have thrived on parchment for hundreds of years

and so will mine.

a/n: Yesterday was such a hectic day; I really couldn't decide who I wanted to write about more, Alito's confirmation, King's death, or the state of the union. So it all became one mesh of webbed thoughts. I can't say whether Alito will backpedal us anywhere at the moment, but I think like a lot of people I'm worried.