it's a good thing

a poem

it’s a good thing I have no button
that remotely blows off heads
or plunges blades into bellies
a good thing
that I can’t from ten thousand miles
drop the doors of ten thousand gallows
set the fires around ten thousand stakes
or muster ten thousand rifles
before the blindfolded vipers
of power and money and war
a good thing I have no magic staff
to drop burning stones from the sky
to crush their mansions and motorcades
break their heads like rotten melons
sink their yachts below their cries
and chum the waters around them
it’s a good thing
I haven’t the power to be them
to play God like them because
they’ve fanned to life
the devil’s flame in me
to forge my thumbs as steel
viced into their single throat
as they kick out their final breath
devil’s fire
that seeks for fuel my hatred
and craves the suffering of others
it’s a good thing beyond
my rage to know
as the blood of innocents
sits in a judgement seat
the blood of the wicked
would my own pollute
and so I scream
and weep