fifteen years
twenty thirty 
almost forty 
years but what 
of all the 
other routes
supressed, destroyed
possibilities haunt
the little extortions 
of our daily lives, do 
i go down the street 
& buy some milk or 
do i set fire 
to the dog shite
before it is too late
entire families 
priced out of the 
neighborhood
gentrification
add a little bit
of cocaine/heroine 
chic fuel & ya git
der velvet revolution
but in the mean time
people are moving 
out all the time & 
the newer ones are
moving in amid flux
there seems to be nothing
that can be done to stop
this economic social 
cleansing displacement
no one is prepared to
to do what must be done
one voice screams
out for blood
we must kill 
the exploiters
the "developers"
one by one until they
fuck off & leave 
us alone once 
& for all
another jokes
we should
camp out in the
front yards of the
terrible twins & 
other money-ed
parasites, another
quips that we 
should picket the 
council, another 
that we ought to
burn the chainstores
& the billboards
what we need is 
yet another riot!
but what does the 
family say that
is priced out
of the neighborhood
the family that is
kicked in the ass
by the dealers
on their way out
into the unknown?
dealers who come 
to sell to the vacant
junky shite children 
who also come from 
the outside?  home, 
community erases
amid the collateral 
profit circus, big 
enough to spread it
around to those with 
power - was there ever 
a home, a community, can 
we still remember?  Or,
just the wolves & sheep?
what does this battered
family say, these voices
shattered, silenced?
They move on to another
street, another stretch
for disposable lives
joining the superfluous
in a mass circulation
of flesh & sad hearts