The West My Model (a poem)

Shaking table

Shaking life

Nervous twitch

The nervous type


Constant battles

Constantly in rage

Struggles incessantly

Struggles of hell to pay


I am not alone

Millions upon millions 

  follow me

I am a symbol

An icon

An embodiment


Western humanity


My heart is cancer

My soul leprosy

But I speak well

I look nice

So of course,

You’ll follow me


Layers upon layers

Of deceitful sweets

  I lay

Strewn across the countertop

In tempting array,

An irresistible display


The West my model

The West my love

The Rest enraptured


Packaged, wrapped up, placed in,

In Mega-Western velvet gloves


The grip is hard

The relief is fleeting

Come away, my bride

Before the West

Greets you


For the last time

The final time

As the curtain draws to close

The vixens,

The Nixons,

Are always there

To grab hold

And squeeze 


The unsuspecting

Into their mould


Escape and resistance

Are and can only ever be

My suggestion . . . .

About sleepless in turtle island

Hi, I´m Dimitri. I have lived in Turtle Island for awhile now, so my cultural understanding is slowly improving. Also, I can see things in this place that boggle my mind. Thus this blog...
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