Dinner on the Moon

Silence is
There are
these crys
in empty halls and
voices carried
over dirt –
stopping you
from being
and obnoxiously
arguing against straw men
and straw men
some of us wish
they were
But sheep
and the old slaughter house
got used to the idea
of an handful
being butchered
holiday roasts
that need to be served
for dinner
every day
at the exact same time.
they really want
you no harm
– the wool of your clothes
is more worth
than giving your blood.
Never wanted us
to go extinct,
and subservient,
even on the brink
of an empty space
future filled
farms on stars
with brave
courageous heads,
Slaves sending the tea
they themselves
not welcome
on the green meadow
of the motherland,
and stand our ground;
united as we are.
where did I hear
this before?
oh yeah, a billboard

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