To the Televisions of the Future
Is it wrong that I laugh while I listen to you Mr. President?
A future of hope and opportunity
For who?
For those that lie forgotten on our freezing streets?
Who walk across town for days on end
Looking for their next meal?
And I feel like this country is on split screen all the time
And it’s hard to tell which is real and which is fiction
Because you are bearing down on us
Talking about responsibility
And truth
Justice and courage
And I feel like I am running in place
And frozen still all at the same time
And every day I open my eyes
Looking for the revolution
Put feet to floor and sink right back in
And I’ve been taught how to be vague
How to scream without really making a sound
But let’s put this out there
Shall we?
Let’s turn off the constant soundtrack of the fiction
You’ve packaged in the flag
Because yesterday
As you doubtless sat
Behind two tons
Of mahogany and privilege
Crafting the next move in the game
Of which you’ve crowned yourself king
I saw the lucky ones
The ones who got your government mat
And your government chicken
And your government prayer
And fell asleep
Freezing behind your government door
Two inches of scratched glass and half-hearted charity
Just barely separating them from the unlucky ones
Because what’s really the difference anyway?
And Mr. President I have to ask,
Do you know the truth of which you do not speak?
Do I?
Are you comfortable here?
Am I?
Where we don’t know whether or not to laugh or cry
To throw up our hands in resignation
Or in struggle
And don’t worry Mr. President,
I’m almost done
I’m coming back now,
I’ll turn that split screen back on
And let your sermon
Continue in the back of my brain
But I’ll keep my focus on the other side
The dull screams of the people
I’ll keep my focus on trying to find what’s real
On the moments
When maybe the truth and the fiction can be one and the same
And we don’t have to live
Divided
Anymore.
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