The Eugenics of Anger

What’s the difference between you and I,
other than pigment and pride, that makes
us blind to the other’s pertinence?

Be it shirtless or clothed, wielding
line breaks or prose,
I’ve let a vermin grow
into hybrid,

all of evolution’s violence in a single dose.

And whether students of its science or
with rebels leading
riots of stones and torches,

sometimes it sounds like
those endorphins only belong to some-

the man with the gun, or of a lighter tone.

I’ve watched doctored dreams of a world we’re all clones, binary codes that either amount to zero or one.

Sums borne
free of equations,
sons without occasion for a world
sorrowful mothers never taught
them to love.

No sense of God but slaver,
no heart or humanism
to favour,
leaving the most
dangerous acres
to build a church upon
its doctrines.

I’m a man with a dream
but even auctioned
I have a dream today
to be talked of
oxygen is unwelcome to
my lungs.

I have a
dream today,
open to every fucking one,

so kindly leave all your guns at the door.


Anthology of Anger

Volume I:
Ancestry | Anatomy | Endgame | Exodus | Epitaph


2 thoughts on “The Eugenics of Anger

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