CAPITALISM

we pay

to be

born

some more

than others

like taxing the poor

and selling us sadness

sadness is the drug

of the state

sadness in the water

sadness in the air and land

we pay for sadness

we pay to release sadness

we are in pain

we pay to relieve pain

we remain poor

if we are alive

we pay to stay alive

full of sadness

we die

we pay to die

a perfect system

LOVE POEM JUST BECAUSE

you breathing

is history

every dream

is a dream

of disarmament

the kingdom

done came

after all

the particulars

of our passion

forgotten and strewn

like a port city

post-super bowl

decay decay

starts a song

or a small bird

before it’s blown away

domestic and real storms

leave us

on the floor

without a floor

like our love

aching to take the shape

of restoration

tiny flowers

blossom in the ruin

as for the poor

and vulnerable

nowhere to go

or live—

DO SOMETHING

screams every atom in me

until there is nothing left—

my soul

astral debris

society’s flotsam

green dreams

turn brown

on the branch

of more war

as we fall

to our knees

and the sun

as if none of this

happened

the sun

comes up

SO OVER YOUR NEOLIBERAL LOVE

your milquetoast revolution

is seriously lacking

poetry

trudging through office light

I carry a few truths

like pool balls

in a long sock

the poem should break

a law or two

or what’s the point

faces blooming

like fists

reality’s chin music

in itself

consciousness

flapping like a fish

shoreless

shirking power

bread like roses

risk

an abundance

of necessity & clarity

and yes

actual love

no limit

to life

but at the end

of words

this

Sampson Starkweather is the author of A Week in Late Capitalism / Ancient Capitalistic Proverbs, Song of Attention Deficit Disorder, PAIN: The Board Game and The First Four Books of Sampson Starkweather, and many chapbooks from dangerous and/or defunct small presses. He is a founding editor of the small independent editor-run poetry press Birds, LLC.