in the awkward silence
common before any big show
the last of the would-be players
twaddle
and fiddle about
apparently ready to capitalize
upon their slightest advantage

beady little eyes
dart this way
and that
as the they swear fealty
to the he
who would be king

dutifully grasping their burgers
and coke
while perfecting a taught tension
between his harshest judgment
and feigned consent

brutally aware
of their assumed
subjugated station

these are among the remaining few
who still vie for their limited corners
of power
in the belly of the beast
with an eye for weakness
and the stomach
for libel

the they who gratefully bow down
before the unshakable
unmatched shamelessness
of the he
who was birthed by the thing

the thing that built this tv nation
drove the masses
and filled the swamp
from which it came

the beast that will never stop
as long as these players
continue to contrive
pathways to profit
and prop up their great he

the he
who would then be
the one to claim
to drain the swamp
from all this primp
and pathetically
phony pomp
and yes

this beast of tv nation
shall also
always be
as long as the we
refuse the grail
and thus
set ourselves up
to fail
to kill it

Peace/Love/Organize/Resist

m(-_-)m