Once the police began to ban <br />all social gatherings, we decided <br />to reignite the ritual of barbarism <br />crucial at the core of survival <br /> <br />without compassion or cause of <br />duty, simply to have something <br />destructive to do that didn't land <br />us behind the grid to be silenced. <br /> <br />Cruelty gets harnessed in fists <br />compressing the void like the <br />nothings we were always deemed <br />to be on our side of normalcy, <br /> <br />just parallel to every other street <br />named after a plague or society- <br />collapsing fire or market tumble, <br />running ramshackle into destiny. <br /> <br />As the lines of communication get <br />tossed aside by fearful minds raiding, <br />even the act of standing firm becomes <br />a challenge to the status of plenty. <br /> <br />Each sting rebuilds my structure <br />anew in memory and scar tissue <br />to capture the element not boxed <br />for barter or sale: my immortality.<br /><br />John Weber<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dumpster-diving-on-farwell/
