MY MANDALA COLORING BOOK CAME WITH ONE BLACK CRAYON (OR HOW I GOT INTO NIGROMANCY)

How dreary – to be Somebody!

How public – like a toad –

—Emily Dickinson, “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” (1891)

my mandala coloring book came with one black crayon (or how I got into nigromancy)

—D.R. Strickland

Do not mistake Civil Disobedience for it is conceptional, interpreted for being of substance.

It is a mongoloid ballerina pirouetting off a cliff with all the other self-righteous Lemmings.

Raise a fist and pretend this War of Attrition has been one of enlightenment, instead of a contrived notion of Justice.

Rebel in public, within a crowd and scream (at those not in attendance) while you sell your official merchandise.

Make slogans and parade them around on popsicle sticks so that the sheeple know your intentions.

Count your Pyrrhic Victories on one finger, in a brazen display, born of the naive and puerile.

This revolution was not only televised it was made to order and converted into pablum.

Real subversion comes from more nefarious roots; in inner sanctums devoid of cameras.

I Did Not Take A Knee

(I took an Oath)

I didn’t make excuses…

I’ve lived on my feet…

I am the (less than) 1%.

I don’t take up causes.

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