The blue-virus-flag-pandemic of nationalism / Hanging the [blue white and] red flag is a red flag / It’s blue, so am I / It’s bull and a red rag to mine / Let’s defrag—unflag

Flags bruise the main roads, cleave to housefronts, fences, flagpoles.
Our blue flag is a 🟥 flag; a blue, white and Red flag. Our colonial
flag means death. Death by hanging. Death by gunfire. Death with 🩸

Death by racism and assumed ownership. Death by disease.

Flag flyers are the 🟥 raggers to my bull — and my bull 💩 detector.

My flag is an end to all flags — all nations, states, borders. A defrag flag.
The end to ownership — by state; by individual; passed on to family.

We cannot own the 🌏— She is there and we visit — each for a brief turn.

We trace some three-score and fifteen ellipses ’round the ☀️ —
pass thirty-thousand axis rotations — then it’s done.

In such a brief spell, we can no more own the 🌏
than we can scry the 🟦 darks of (even a limited) mind.

What the heck is a Longette?