patterns over los angeles

rarely do i hear anyone talk about the sky. the weather, perhaps. why never the heavens? is it the fear of god? then why do we worship altars & not the clouds? why all the skyscrapers & their unnatural glow that hide the stars with their light pollution? why the billboards, which we never asked for, holding our attention to a muddy horizon? it is perplexing to say the least, how these claims of legacy defile the chance at wonderment.

and how the clouds will remind us of our place, our home. to travel among them is truly an accomplishment—the air is not for sale, yet—but if these scoundrels on their stolen land could have their way, surely it would cost simply to breathe. perhaps they build so tall to distract from what their heritage took, to make exclusive the simple right to live.

and those towers that have fallen are declared never to be forgotten, while casualties of our retribution are discarded without a thought or concern. reason is excused by power & prescriptions. any dissent is dutifully ignored.

so now the sky remains patient & observant as these tyrants with their gilded traditions seek to destroy it. their wars against life itself claimed to be historic while the stars are for witches they’ll burn at the stake once again, given the chance.

what peace the invention of cost has truly cost us. the dried blood in the soil is just propaganda—a threat, a prelude, a reminder to keep our heads down: do not look to the sky, do not dare to imagine. your lives are only worth a capitalist’s ambition.

stars are but ghosts, a haunting reminder the light we could shine with our silenced hearts has a potential to last forever.