What It Really Is

A Poem

For all you name callers and labelers,

You conservatives and neo liberals,

All you Democrats and Republicans and

Tea partiers with no tea to toss;

All the designated cosignatories you sign onto rather than call this pathology

What it really is:

It lives inside the soul

Of your

Symbology.

Inside of that

Keenly crafted

Copper metal horse and murderer;

That bald headed,

White feathered eagle

Flying high and around

That dark blue sky.

That two winged scavenger with its left and right wings.

White stars casting light

On the

Red blood stained

Stripes of your heritage,

Waving

Amidst the

Bombs bursting in air.

White supremacy.

That is the only label that fits.

That is your indelible signature.