it takes on cracked radio waves
where a couch to rest on is,
a group of passionate people
to prove an important point…
but then there is nothing;
they would rally and disrupt,
but wouldn’t pull a single pen
to write a dot of legislation;
aimless, and still the group remains,
seething, holding signs: inequality,
exhaustive, as Occupy once was,
not realizing the implication,
of the reality: that is only
wealthy lives matter–to unify!
and one couldn’t pick a main
idea to write a paper on,
and will never hold hands with difference,
yet they could measure a day
walking, yelling, shouting, whatever,
in hopes that those listening
could change the way
that the wild wind blows.
but those ragged ears are powerless too,
they are the wrong demographic of listeners.