The figs did not ripen this
year nor did the dreams
of democracy in the land
of the free the hard green
fruit only skin and seeds
absent the flesh necessary to
sustain the living who
are left with only the dull green
skin the dream of figs
hopes for another winter’s rain with
a spring that blooms hopefully followed
by a full summer’s harvest but
this is not the case in the now of
seasons that collapse
in on one another like confused
drunks & unripened fruit this
is the season of no harvest wind
sacrifice & dues paid to master’s
who are owed nothing
law givers who stole the company
store and plutocrats who have neither
cake nor pity for the rabble
there will be no figs this
year only the frustrated
promise of figs no rest for
the weary in search of a dream
deferred erased and rewoven
in the promise written on ill
winds blowing away rationality
to make room for reasons
to continue dancing towards the
precipice there will be no figs
no jobs no solutions no calvary
just more of the same & hope fed
on figs that won’t ripen
very powerful!