"Ideas Voices raised in perfect unison Cries of oblivion riding the wind united In mutual destruction But not people An amoeba hate marchin’ on infected lands home America The beautiful Tyranny interrupts breath’s dreams freedom Fogging sights with ideas’ final gasps ideas— Are hard to kill Subconscious drums beat an empty mindpalace A man says ride And follow blindly None are spared while Fascist fandangos flow through forgotten fields To streets!! and overflowing world bleeds—till Through genocidic darkness Ideas all that remain invisible Seen but remembered living cracks crevices Waiting— For time when again."