where the hell is the hand to ring the bell?

and maybe you thought you knew
tying strings
pulling on your shoe
that there were no afternoon classes on social intercourse
holding your bridle
riding your horse
but on the city street corner there were smaller protests
about the secret meetings
about the secret beauty contests
and the fake news printing all the momentary truth!
i read every damn page
passing through my local toll booth
paying my fare
hoping for a seat on the crowded town square
with sweet Jane and her bible and her temporary lover
there were plenty of white sheep shouting out in the nearby pasture
and others playing under cover,
fireworks on the 4th of July and a rousing patriotic song
shivers jumping up my spine
i'm holding on to everything that's mine
carrying a military combat assault rifle and loaded magazines
hearing angry older people yelling at angry teens;
so, what could possibly go wrong?
watching the ship of state and Clarabell the Clown
they're both smearing makeup on the famous American Constitution,
while asking their adoring masses to look up while pointing down!
and maybe you once loved the beauty of an orange autumn moon
the setting sun
having a quickie at noon
or wondered to where all the mad insurgent poets have gone
flames in their words
souls of brawn
teeth of steel and sentences ablaze,
trying to make sense of the dangerous maze!
hell yes, you might be wondering, where the hell
is the hand to ring the bell?
the sound is of muffled marching feet,
but the shaking is in the center of main street.
can you hear it?
do you fear it?
hell yes, you might be wondering, where the hell
is the hand to ring the bell?