Born Into a Carnival of Souls

Here are a few words I’ve seen scrawled in the alleys of San Francisco’s
Mission District:

We can’t know what we won’t comprehend.

We can’t stop the damage we won’t believe we cause.

These are the crazies, the dregs of the earth, the losers, and every other demeaning and dismissive word used to dismiss the powerless who suffer
the worst of the GOP’s abuses of power.

These people can’t afford to vote their conscience because they’re dying from the lousy choices of people who can.

I saw this scrawled on a wall in late 2016: Why do u want 2 Kill me?

That’s a damned good question.

A mind that ain’t inquisitive really doesn’t got
shit to live for if you can’t explore the
realms of thought you ought not test lest
you be chomped up, like a pop rock, stopped for a
bead from the weed lady, thought it was the bomb
Really wasn’t nuttin but a bag of strong palms

A human ain’t a human if he doesn’t make mistakes
And the name of this song is Swan Lake

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