When I understood
that the onus is
mostly on me
to keep myself
alive and, Christ,
to give a shit about me,
that we’re all convinced
and, admit it, coerced
not to care beyond ourselves,
that every month, after I pay rent,
I calculate how I’ll pay
for the next ten days
before my check goes through –
I realized
this shit is all
carefully calculated
and crafted,
designed to keep me
too tired to find
and punch
every single millionaire.

Hey [name of company or CEO/passable insult (shitbag works fine)],
why does [rent/food/medicine/housing/any number of things we need] cost so much?
Asking for [a friend/my mom/the houseless/the disenfranchised/the 99%/anyone who isn’t you, you corporate asshole].

Fuck you very much,
[Your name/A concerned human/A decent human being/Everyone who’s not the company or CEO]

Here’s an example:

Hey Eli Lilly, you shitbags,
why does insulin cost so fucking much?
Why does insulin cost anything?
Asking for me and every diabetic person.

Fuck you.

I’m a pissed-off diabetic poet.

Hope this template and example help!
Write those shitbags what they deserve.

I looked upon
a light,
flick’ring,
knowing
that the shadows
run
for the light
and
to the light,
and they will fall
as wolves upon
a stray lamb,
to devour,
darkness always devours
but it
also
grows.

I move from one closed-off box
to another,
from one
earthen plot to
another,
and I forget all
my mothers.

Some people
believe in market forces
believe in factory floors
believe in glass
ceilings and ste(e/a)l
doors,
believe in offshore bank accounts,
believe in those who
trounce the little guy, as if
easy knockouts count as victories.

Still, some people
believe in quarterbacks,
believe in the nickel-and-dime,
believe in working full-time,
overtime,
on time,
all the time,
I really wish it would all

stop.

Well, I believe in
the wheeling stars,
in Mercury and Mars,
I believe in things I
can’t see.
’cause magic is just science that hasn’t been explained
yet,
and wouldn’t it be fun to race a yeti down a mountain?

So I believe in some funky stuff.
And I believe belief is enough
to affect behavior.

That’s why
I’m scared of some people.

I’d love
a magic button
to straighten my spine,
and buff out my tendency
to slouch.
The deep sigh, it says I
don’t want to work on Sunday,
I never want to log into
the Bank
of America app again,
I don’t want to wonder
if I can shell out ten bucks
for Burger King
(what is a responsible choice?),
I don’t want to have to repeat
“There is no ethical consumption
within capitalism”
for the ump-millionth time,
yes I piss on company time,
I eat and check dating apps too,
this is how you
com-part-mentalize
a hacked-up soul.

, the place from where it all sprang,
some kinda big ka-bang,
its mysteries a horror
to those without heart.

For all those who want to know,
the so-called void
is a great start.

cost of living

shampoo for normal hair

proof of insurance

ID required

full-time

untapped market

business attire

9 to 5

Popcorn Thursdays

Taco Tuesdays

Happy Hour

Hump Day

Casual Fridays

retirement age

any sort of pipeline

traditional values

family values

members only

and more

so many more

When wind blows smoke over the mountains
and the view from my window clouds up,
my cat climbs her tower
to peer at the strange gray
otherworld outside;
when I leave to run an errand,
and enter that gray to walk to my car,
I hope that my cat
believes me intrepid.

I sit on the ground,
resting closer to life.
I lie on the ground,
sinking closer to death.
I daydream in bed
and the dreams never come;
if I quiet my head,
then my breath starts to thrum.
When I open my eyes,
it’s time to get moving.
First, I must close them –
oblivion is soothing.