…rooted, maybe, in the army Major’s raucous trip down rebellion’s rabbit hole ruckus @

Fort Hood..or man’s reverberating rat-i-tat-tat relationship wit guns n violence in general,

I ask myself, is it better to hang onto notions of benevolence or just give into the wingnut

ideal, like the plenty, and war-ship in the house I was born into, this fucktup subjugation?

Banging my head against walls and pats for decades and still NOThing but walls..& pats!

Always there like..a gut punch;  ..& still the one hunch that there’s love around the corner.

More than the art n hope n music n love comes in spurts amidst the dread, but intellectual

& of the utmost emotional content sustained with an energy not effaceable by asinine bile

& the might o the mere ballyhooed bully-school that has found its foothold in this garden.