I’m the cause that caught up with James Dean--
ended entitled white boy rebellion in twisted metal and legend that
regurgitates itself every few years in the suburbs
I’m where the parents were when their kids brought shooting games
to the schoolyard,
when boys are boys and girls get bought off, mouths shut, thighs wide--
I spread the panic when little white girls disappear
I am the Angel that taught Christians to paint targets on themselves
and the Westboro Baptists are like my side project.
I ghost-wrote the first argument for “reverse-racism” just
to see if anyone would buy it
I made Ed Hardy cool,
took away taste buds to make Miller High Life tasty
took away sight to make Sandra Oh pretty--
invented the word “exotic”
popped collars, bleached hair
that makes you a laughing stock,
created the guilt that makes you condone me.
My name is Balance and I’m here to fuck your shit up.
You can’t set dogs, fire hoses, smallpox blankets, or language tests on me
You can’t napalm, nuke, or legislate me away.
I’m here for your kids’ kids
to show them while they bleed that Justice is a diversion
arrived at only after a short period of Balance.
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