of uncertain virtues

filtered war ware
clear driving into the hell sequence
quitting once and for all, never again
clear it the wires and waves unrelenting
silence beating, pounding like a drum
shine it, shine it out at the gathered mass
of cameras
silence is golden
untimely speaech may be untimely
let it not be
working the silence i do not know
where are they and what have they done?
i cannot say
one hopes to, as the i ching says,
be free of mistakes
let not the oppressor do their own work
the surveillers presumably come more to the side
of the surveilled, rather than
the imperious dispensers of orders
where are the warriors
when the difference is merely ideological
not forcefully enforced
and yet my verse stumbles – on these sharp rocks
worrying the errant
clumsy words spill
the point has become heavy handed
release me from this bullshit
so i can write again
the hammer of the Civil Liberties Union is in reserve
should i ever find the proof

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