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The Killing Joke

it’s a joke to be born & it’s a joke to die
it’s a joke to kill & it’s a joke to heal
it’s a joke to speak about the turks
when there are fools to burn & cast away
it’s a joke to embrace & there are scenes of witches
when there are blues to sing & where my uncle burns his books
burns a joke to shred & a joke to keep silent
& it’s my fingers that burn
& it’s my toes that burn
it’s a joke to fight for peace there to dance
it’s a joke to march where there are jackboots
it’s a joke that there are shoes down in your garden
it’s a joke to joke & to keep jokes going
it’s a joke to plant & it’s a joke to sow
it’s a joke to dig up & it’s a joke to smoke
when we’re here to wage war & it’s a joke to break down
& to mourn & to build up & to hate
it’s a joke joke joke to love & it’s a joke to weep & it’s a joke to laugh
it’s a joke to lose & it’s a joke to get
so do you
do you
do you get it?

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Posted on April 1, 2016 by Josh. This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.
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