We\u2019re here, but you\u2019re not listening.
\nYou, the self-appointed, peer-appointed pukes
\nwhose voluminous barf gets washed by white gloved bankers.
\nThe barf accumulated in the trade of the diminutive.
\nLittle people. Little. People.<\/p>\n
We scream. We cry. And I, like a good little gadfly,
\ntell my truth to your minions, who then erase the tape;
\nclear the trail of emails, like it never happened.
\nBut it did. You know it did. I know it did.<\/p>\n
We bite with our words. We sting with our debate.
\nAnd, we laugh when you come back with
\ndriveling twists on our intent.
\nOurs is purpose. We are small. We are many.
\nWe are the people upon whose land you tread.<\/p>\n
We matter, but not to you. You, who, chronologically, taught us that
\nNative Americans didn\u2019t matter, African slaves didn\u2019t matter,
\nMexicans didn\u2019t matter, women didn\u2019t matter,
\nand WE didn\u2019t matter when we were children.
\nYou taught that only white men mattered.<\/p>\n
You lied. You always lie. You live a constant lie.
\nYou are nothing but lies swimming about in your
\nwhite halls of injustice. You weave lies into desperate false truths
\nusing the latest technologies, never thinking of me.
\nI invented technology. Yes, trust in me, and I\u2019ll bite your ears.<\/p>\n
Admit it, and we\u2019re done. Admit all of it.
\nAdmit that you were, and still are, afraid.
\nIn case you don\u2019t realize it, that\u2019s our common ground \u2013 fear.
\nAdmit that you cower at the very thought of death.
\nYour own deaths. Admit it now before we lose our fear. Or not.<\/p>\n
We will keep biting. I will keep fighting in my sweet little gadfly way.
\nAnd you can keep swatting at me. Keep trying to kill.
\nI will keep laughing; because, surely, you know by now\u2026
\nI am a spectral gadfly. The one you saw coming
\nThe one made of my will.<\/p>\n
I will win. Gadflies always win.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We\u2019re here, but you\u2019re not listening. You, the self-appointed, peer-appointed pukes whose voluminous barf gets washed by white gloved bankers. The barf accumulated in the trade of the diminutive. Little people. Little. People. We scream. We cry. And I, like a good little gadfly, tell…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":189,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[3442,680,151],"class_list":["post-69628","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-2020poetrymarathon","tag-poetrymarathon","tag-hour-7"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69628","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/189"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=69628"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69628\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":69655,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69628\/revisions\/69655"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=69628"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=69628"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=69628"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}