The Flare

Come, revolutionary citizen,

breathe life into this frame

of total dearth; we need emptiness

to fill the carcass leftovers

of those who do conform,

but in their hearts. The dead remains,

raise them

up, back from the death

of total listlessness,

make them blazing with the rage

that is necessary

in order to confront madness

in its most insidious

guise: the sentient man,

unconscionably quiet

to atrocity, unshakeably firm

in his lunatic belief

that he is sane.