Rage

The most painful offense is the sound of such peircing silence
mutely pummeling the closed surfaces of my soul
as the world quietly goes about its business forgetting.
I woke this morning wondering if there really was a world.
I woke sluggish but shivering from a terrible dream sequence
where I envisioned the only place in the world was Amerika--
an enormous fishbowl of theatrics, where everything was fake
and nothing was actually happening anywhere else because
there was no where else, really, it was all a joke.
Not a joke, no, but a nightmare, reeling and reeling
faster and faster so that the more you watched
the deeper the trance you fell into.
No-one was dying in Africa, not 1 out of 3 of AIDS,
No-one was raped in border towns in Mexico,
No-one was pillaged and murdered in Iraq or Palestine,
No-one was tossed in a dumpster in China, or Central America or Africa or
in any other far off imaginary poverty stricken or communist place
No-one was the Queen of England
or the Prince of Wales,
No-one was starving in Cuba or freezing
in Russia or no-where north of the Caspian Sea.
Black Sea, Dead Sea, Indian Ocean -- all not real.
All rumors.
All FOX NEWS.
All Hannity and Colmes.
All Associated Press.
All Fear Factor.
All over...all over.