i’m a dissident

wearing a khaki green pea coat over my ché graffiti T-shirt with torn jeans and scuffed up combat boots

no

i’m a real dissident

recognizing ché for the animal he was and considering him deserved of an unmarked grave in the mountains

he wasn’t the romantic figure he is made out to be

a failed doctor with a motorcycle and a taste for blood

misunderstanding that communism is only possible without human interference

like democracy

it all eventually falls into an oligarchy

and lines in the snow waiting for toilet paper

or a theocracy

where ultimately women are treated as lesser

or children are raped

i’m a dissident

railing against the worse type evil

the human race

twirling my mustache like a black and white western villian

tying her to the tracks she should have never trusted me to take her to

the evil genius painstakingly laying out the plan for world domination to the suave secret agent i secretly wish i were

wearing an all white suit even though i can’t be trusted to eat or drink without spilling

making mazes like daedalus for minos to hide the bastard son of zeus away from prying eyes

rasping voice and innocence insolence all while manically maniacally cackling while petting my pet dodo bird

i’m a dissident

ranting and raving against joy and happiness in a world where neither has ever knocked upon my front door

where my scarred face turns a blind eye to any offering of either

screaming that hope is a tool the rich invented to keep the hopeless steadily dreaming

a successful attempt to sell more ché shirts to the franchises of disenfranchised

swimming with the sharks, mouth full of bloody chunks and wondering why i can’t shake them

can’t stop shaking

can’t stop stopping

can’t start beginning

so afraid of turning the page, there’s too much to say, blinded by my own lack of cleverness and insipid whining

wine stained tuxedo torn from throwing myself out of the limo

wondering why i tied her to the train tracks and waited across the street with binoculars to see what would happen

i’m a dissident

in need to reinvent myself into more of the lesser being i’ve always been

a human been

living in the fraudulent past tense and still unable to capitalize the i and make myself a real boy

the blue fairy wants no piece of me

just another jackass braying at the crowd

a dissident in sheep’s clothing

all hail the disinterested dissident

unable to see the writing he writes in front of his own third eye

unwilling to stop, to collaborate, to listen

spinning out on black ice of his own creationistic idiocy

a dissident

a fool

an illiterate idiot spinning yarns that are far to scratchy to ever make a sweater

unless it has ché on it

doomed to fail at even being a failure

railing against injustices wrought by his own hand

i’m no dissident, just coated in dissidence, deep fried track suit wearing dissonance, looking for a distraction in a world of disharmonic screams

i’m nothing

just a fleeting speck in the eyes of the greater than, always lesser than, never equal to or approximated

a punchline to a joke no one tells

a joke with no punchline

two men walk into a bar

the third is a third rate poet unable to write a decent poem

a dissident