The Last Poem Of 2020

 It’s the final hour of twenty-twenty

& I don’t think Poets are gonna save us

Most of them last seen bragging on facebook

About winning a fixed fight

Afraid to look at the corruption

In their own ranks

Pyramid goes up to nowhere

But it sells big dreams

But I know Poets that would

Change the World if they could

Some of them still try to do it

It’s been a hard year

Nine months of isolation

Like a pandemic is just a bad movie plot

My hair grows long and wild

I miss my friends

But love the messages

They’re all out trying to save the World

& some stupid fascist

Tries to cling to power

Never sees that power is an illusion

Everything is impermanent

It reminds me of the Buddhist roommate

That I used to have in Philly

I would ask him how he felt about Bush

He would answer I know he is impermanent

Biting The Hands Of Our Gatekeepers

 Seems like the Poetic thing to do

They’re all like power drunk politicians

Full of thoughts and cons to take over nothing

Or maybe they were just busy building themselves

Ego, there is nothing bigger

No craft, no art, nothing

They will come at you so arrogant

They can’t even look you in the eye

That’s fine, they’ll never see the whites of your teeth

Take a chunk, let the blood flow, let people see it

Let the blood flow, let it pump from the heart

Like words they can no longer conjure

Let it soak in

Biting the hands of our gatekeepers

Seems like the Poetic thing to do

It’s probably not going to free anybody

It’s probably not going to change anything

Food chains will still be food chains

Mafias will still be mafias

The Power structure will still exist

As much as Poets hate power

But you, the underdog took a bite of something real

Two Turkey Vultures In The Road

 Standing, puking

Over roadkill possum

From last night

Cloak of death

Black feathers,

Black feather hoods

Crown their heads

Natures scavengers

Part of the process

They step aside

As I walk the dog by

Then go about their business

Published by Mike Zone

Mike Zone is the former Editor in Chief of Dumpster Fire Press and managing editor of Concrete Mist Press. The author of Screaming in the End: Poems and Stories, Fuck You: A Fucking Poetry Chap, Shedding Dark Places (almost), One Hell of a Muse , as well as coauthor of The Grind and Razorville. A frequent contributor to Alien Buddha Press and Mad Swirl. His work has been featured in: A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Black Shamrock Magazine, Horror Sleaze Trash, Better Than Starbucks, Piker Press, Punk Noir Magazine, Synchronized Chaos, and Cult Culture magazine.

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