I certainly wouldn’t object
to being cut
a big fat check
from a major press
that I could stuff
in my back pocket
and transport
to the nearest
corporate fascist bank
to deposit
so I could spend it wildly,
buying an infinite block
of free time
to use at my leisure
so I could keep
churning out the type
of fiery, apocalyptic verse
that gets me off
harder
than any orgasm
ever will;

and I, no doubt,
would not put up a fuss
if I had a book
rocket to the top
of the New York Times
Best Seller list
based on
it being pimped
and marketed
like a washed-up whore
by some
cult of personality,
daytime television,
vacuous, vapid, shallow, sleazy
profiteer
that received a kickback
off every copy
that was sold
to the mindless mass
of minions
that flocked over
every stupid word
uttered from the absurd
lips
of said sideshow circus clown.

But if I were forced
to stand
with hand
placed firmly upon the Bible,
promising with a sly grin
to swear only the truth
about my intentions,
I would start singing the praises
of the underground,
small press, indie
literary scene,
and how all I really care about
is being one drop of water
in the ocean’s tidal wave
that rises up
from out the depths
of society’s
collective unconscious
like a dark shadow
of the psyche
that must be dealt with
by a tsunami
that slams down
and washes clean
the corruptive stink
from a decadent culture
that needs a little art
shoved down its throat
and force fed
into its soul;

and if the high
and mighty Judge
allowed me to continue
with my rant,
I’d keep running my mouth
in a dissident tone
and a spitfire cadence
with rhetoric about
a Renaissance Revolution
sweeping across
the dystopic plains
of the land formerly known
as the good ole’ U.S. of A.,
and about how the ashes
of the beaten, battered,
broken remains
of the Beast State
will serve as fertile soil
from which a Phoenix Generation
can rise up
and spread its wings
in a New Age
techno-tribal community
that has absolved the sins
of humanity’s fallen past
to pave a path
into the bright future
that buzzes
with neon lights
of high vibration
along to the sweet sound
of the celestial symphony,
where every awakened
and fully actualized individual
can sing and dance and laugh and weep
and cry and scream and dare to dream
without a gavel
hanging heavy
over their head
at every turn.