poem 409 of a poem a day for 2012

venerable dried figs

( I am not a capitalist, I am not a communist, I am a humanist )

we would rather

mine asteroids

for the precious metals

and resources

we can gather

with claimant flags

and hoard

aboard the danger

of rocket ships

than mine

every energy field

the Earth is rung with

these harmonic resonances

impart us the keys

to unlocking

our genomic divinity

so while we must entertain time

we must also wrest

the questions back to thrive

back past survival

to the forefront

of our bowsprit humanity

while stealing

every Prometheus we can

from a seduction in chains

for the mountain

only gets lonelier

when we no longer climb

past its cold embrace of sky

it is too easy

to turn ourselves off

from nature's grid

too easy

to tune out

each other

and it is all

too easy to drop ourselves

into semi-permanent

inanimate states

of consumptive unconscious

there is no balance

in capitalism

there is only

the illusion of equilibrium

and as material distribution

becomes more acutely

tied to social issues

along the barrel sights of guns

spiritual distribution

is considered mass hallucination

unless of course

it can be used

to mollify

for greater purpose

a plebeian servile courtship

of dreams that keep us

propping up the Earth

after Atlas shrugs

dreams that we too

may taste gold,

glory and all the stories

we may have inspired

so generation

after generation

still tell of how lotteries

are won and lost

long after we're dead

EJR ©