what do i think?

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a dangerous question asked
produces an explosive answer,
no charades—just shrapnel—
alphabet animus shards
screech-spray into electric ears.

what do I think?

does it matter what I say
when the world carries on?—

anyway,
we all know what I think,
right?

everything stinks,
reeks of wreckage.
progress boiled down—

regresso soup—

have you been in the loop?
dysfunctional erections on the rise—
really…no surprise—
while moral compasses droop
over tree branches

in dreamy dali
the free world is
free-falling
into its own refuse—
slugdy slime,
not holistic, but drastic—
cause for a chaser,
the main ingredient
for this acrostic:

Gestapo on the Rocks

Immigrants made this country.
Caustic Caucasians codify
Evil within engorged edicts.

Capitalism thrives on cheap labor.
Uniformity supersedes unity.
Bureaucrats promise it all—
Everything under the sun—
Security blankets the snakes beneath.

Poet’s Note:
This poem was sparked by Dixie Dodd’s open-hearted call for writers to speak honestly about the violence, inequity, and fear shaping our communities. Her prompt asked what we think. My answer arrived sharper than expected. Some questions don’t invite polite replies…they detonate them. Thank you, Dixie, for creating a space where truth—even when jagged—still has room to be spoken.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
 
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