Rookie (2034 AD / New Orleans)

The Radical Makin’ Men - Poem by Fang

U cut.
U have cut.
U will cut.
U cut my throat just to taste my ashes.
“-Why do u cut my throat just to taste my ashes? ”
When I, ashes, will give to you free
Like a left leg. And 2 little fingers.
All the toes. No, keep the big one.
I unfourgh my flag in this country which is no
longer mine, throw down the jack.
-Still you cut my throat just to taste my ashes
& Everywhere I am speaking spitting ashes.
The forests are clogged. Whole cites are shutting down.
My ashes blow jetspray darkening
Old Deodhunga himself.
And blast out into the Milky Way – making another spiral arm. On God.
Just the way he draws everything.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 12, 2005

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