Everyone’s an expert, on this side of town
Red, Orange, Yellow
Black, White, Brown
The sound of the meat machine
Passin’ in the rounds
The burden of the hype man
Tellin’ folks to pipe down
Everyone’s an expert, on this side of town
Choppers choppin’ chunks of flesh flying
Down
Pumped and flexed
Thumb erect
Right behind the neck
Clowns sit and text elects
Crisp new suit with a tie
and vest
The Best, The Vet, The Teeth, The Tech
The prissy speak
The deck.
The dry, the wet
The podium pet, PACs
The threat to threats.
The feast, the fête
The heat, the sweat
The puncture wound in a chest
Is all the space I need
In this WASTE I made you leave —
squeezed
[This poem was written immediately after the 2015 San Bernardino shooting, while I was still at work. My goal was to capture the moment when everybody first heard about the tragedy and immediately started chiming in with their own (political) biases. It has been edited several times since. ]
Brad Rhone 