The dada movement has been resurrected in the Senate
Folding the constitution like origami,
A morphing sphere hailed as the nucleus of liberty.
They say that we are divided by Gods, by colors, by sex;
A meal we have been fed a hundred times, and continue to chew on occasion
Though the flavor has turned a corner, in the city at least.
For those souls whose families have scraped by riding drilling rigs like rodeo bulls,
For those who have to walk a mile to the neighbors’ house,
Far away from the gravity of shared assets,
“Socialism” a word that festers in the mouth
A curse word antithetical to all they know.
Or is it?
For many the rich heritage, they benefit from is a heritage they do not acknowledge.
They acknowledge hard work, and its true.
The grit of many a settler proved an asset to future generations.
Yet this period in which men came and claimed soil for their toil,
Was not open to all.
Of course even if they recognized it, the most likely response would be “sorry, bout ya luck!”
A response which reinforces today predicament.
We don’t understand them, and they do not understand us.
It is this misunderstanding that carries us forward.
Singular worlds spinning around each other
Thrilled more by conflict than the thought of understanding.
We have given the word “wrong” such negative connotations,
That to accept it means you are weak.
Only by having the courage to be weak
Will our isolated realities
Stop spinning and begin to dance.