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Subversive Assimilation (November 1998)

Jab.  Hook.  Bob.  Weave.
For twenty-four years, I have trained for this fight.
“You killed my father.  Prepare to die.”
Six-fingered goliath, western civilization,
you killed all our fathers,
cutting us off from the roots of our past,
replacing our trunks with your insidiously hideous self,
leaving us, leaves, blown in the wind,
without place nor time to think of as home.

Since my earliest days, I’ve been busy preparing.
I’ve honed my tongue to a razor sharp blade,
my pen, the sling which has felled you before.
I quest for the day when I, with Robin Hood,
Zorro, Karl Marx, Luke Skywalker, and Moses
will sit atop your wretched, foul, heinous,
ugly, putrid, rotting carcass,
and add to the stench of your prayed-for demise
one of celebratory cigars.

My trainers, teachers, and even my mother,
have all taught me how to strike at your weakness.
The drone of my drills echoes on in my ears,
as I wake from a trance, as the bell starts Round 1,
and see that it’s David
against whom I aim my poised weapons.
A look to my corner finds my name on your shirt.
Goliath, you’ve never had to defeat me.
You’ve made me one of your minions, instead.

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