by LJ Frank
The Republic
a statement or allegory
erected by a gerrymandered electorate
representatives of…
the beast revealed the tusks of ivory are precious to some
the bitter tasting seeds on the tongue’s nodules
exude a sweet lie on the lawyerly tongues of Justice
and the metaphoric saliva of the Gods
drips blood from the lower lip
grasping for Founding words among the weeds
like the vanishing of Thou and I
and erreur politique
is without need of translation
originalism was not the original intent
rather, it was the pursuit of adaptability
and an open mind was the root
of The Age of Reason
still, rigor mortis is inevitable
the body and mind harden
the bone structure returns to dust
and angst was first recorded
in George Elliot’s Letters of 1849;
memory coagulates
thought is an ambiguous tool
like a Mass without a communion
a body lifeless
while the mightiest exhort
admonishing others for the sins
they themselves commit
yet proud of their guilt
and invoking a jingoistic spirit
they do not follow such matters in their private circles
with profits in accounts offshore
denied those not of the calling
does it matter
competition is a fetish among the lowest
the kink of credit not withstanding
free to be born at a cost
as exhibitionistic privacy is a commodity
with a price to behold
and tissues of fat are excised from the buttocks
to inflate the phallus
the heart is chained to an illusion;
naked
while the mind is clothed
poverty and war
are the epistles of pornography
what is non-consensual
if all is a lie
control is to be relished
but what of the “others”
manipulation is sold as liberty
fairer than justice itself
and the “rugged individual”
is led to think
that they are thinking on their own
so let the buyer beware
what good is the diploma
while sitting in a winter’s cold stoned alley;
all are created equal
ask the disabled child in a wheelchair
purchased on time from those with benign smiles
and deceptive airs
showing their whitened teeth
while smoking grass ten miles off the coast
in a luxurious yacht,
perhaps with a bit of luck
the etymological roots of fuck
might unearth the colonial spirit
drunk in a tavern
waiting anxiously
the cemetery is filled with the skeletons of reason
from past Republics.