Run, Hide, Fight.
a recess playground game the bully insists his audience plays
kids badged as superheroes and princesses in awkward clothes
run the elementary school’s baseball diamonds and asphalt kickball courts
to hide behind a tree
or fight the bully
we adrenaline listened because our children might die.
ARIELLE. ALEXANDRIA. BRIAN.
Run, Hide, Fight.
the motto of our system
the rubric we teach our children
the method, the structure, the mantra, the meaning of existence
the church of media and entertainment all transistor crystalized
in its purest form on the police scanner
where the dispatcher is the new celebrity and crowd sourced rewarded
am i guilty of a coveted click?
or just getting by in the method, the structure, the mantra, the meaning of existence
on a playground where i drew the fancy branded running shoes
while men, it’s MEN,
some men shove and hog an 11pm camera
to think it’s their shot for the coveted click and recognition to revenue
in the United Democracy of Run, Hide, Fight.
when your daughter cowers, shrinks, descends in a 7th floor dorm room
barricaded with a wicker papasan
illuminated by an ipad facetime
going silent when the hallway elevator opens and someone twists the door knob
hiding in the sick money game of surveillance system profiting off of aryan romances of militias
and invisible men perpetuating sadistic bully rules of
Run, Hide, Fight.
some women and men are noble in badges affixed with radios and information
and authentically speak the word
community
communities of daughters and sons, friends, shell shocked and caked with screams
bowed to a Spartan Statue no longer about football and academic memories
but the temple of the dead flowers
mom tears from our governor dissolving
her past loving reminders of Berkey Hall and the Union
and all there is for her to say is
this is bullshit
echoes her innocence lost into Dante’s Run, Hide, Fight hell
sipe says
Wow
Kristina Konen says
No words…