Hope seems such a ridiculous thing,
flighty and immature and slavering for brainspace,
for attention when there is none to give;
I am for action, progression,
fire and brimstone, visionary vinegary ire,
but no place for the delicate delusion of hope.
Why hope when you can be a raisin on the sidewalk?
Why hope when you can get hung for Haymarket, why hope
when you can be burdened by firehoses in Selma?
I never was nor will be
one of Luther's lists, to be hung on a doorway,
to be debated and bestir a population.
My way is flanked by iron doors, "all hope abandon"!
Why hope when there is already
enough abandonment of logic, enough Lycean deception,
to destroy what little man hath already wrought?