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Oh for the day
when the bombs stop falling.
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When the humans stop biting
and stabbing each other
and spraying everything
with blood and oil.
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When the men remove
their iron breastplates
and stand tender and vulnerable
in their original beauty.
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When the women retrieve
their tongues
from the lead-lined jars
in the basement
and sing feral and free
beneath the streetlights.
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When we release the eels
and arrows from our bellies
and stop bracing for the impact
of the fists of our fathers.
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When we vomit out
the nattering humonculi
in our skulls
and live
in our natural serenity.
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When we stop taking orders
from the bank boys
and money men
and join hands with the cousins
they trained us to snarl at.
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When we turn the gunships
into gardens
and make the robots
work for us.
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When we come together
as native terrestrials
against the freaks
with mechanical minds.
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That will be the beginning.
That will be our birth day.
That will be the dawn
of a wild and wonderful
adventure.
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Good morning.
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