February 28, 2013

dishonorable discharge your honor...

Guy Fawkes Day photo courtesy of Docklandsboy via Flickr

after the industrial revolution, the Earth has been held hostage

there was a new religion
and Nay-Nard was its name
we sang songs at Summer camp
about the inalienable right of greed
children were sent to these camps
to disguise the school year as something
that had a start and a beginning
we of course knew this to be false
we were children of the slow silent apocalypse
and war was our birthmark

the fighting seemed an endless dream
a cycle of almost daring yourself
that a brighter future was possible
but we knew better than to succumb
right away to any or all of this
every war came with a myriad of names
one for each of the conflicts that rose from the other
one generation jailed into the next
with ebbs and flows, nation states in throes
brought to their knees to please corporate captors
there was an ease with which the public sectors
could be bled of their fortunes
tribunals were newspapers
and they became a new form of cash and torture
and everywhere you went, ornery deacons
were sermonizing on TV in their best Atlas Shrugged
railing through every turn coated moment
like anyplace you went was a Sunday
at speaker’s corner in Hyde Park in London

they would say, in brilliant cadence
it is your fault that you are pauper bought and sold
that we were merely a market derivative that measured life
as an extractable commodity and we should be proud
the deacons would thunder to speak not of blame
but to raise forth our surrender as an art form
and wait for the trickle down manna
that will explain it all to you
heaven is only after death
hell is here while you are living
here’s to your compliance or banishment
so quit your complaining and start working  
to give your first born the tools
of patricide, matricide, fratricide,
sororicide and suicide
even in a broadcast the deacons
devise ways to speak lies
in a loving manner
to all our empty inside

I always try to tune the TV out
but these days they are mandatory to own
and ever present and always on
and some days I even want
to head out into the acid rain
just to see if cancer will come
before apathy completes me
I don’t stand by windows anymore
with my hands in prayer
cupping the silent gathers of wind
there are too many lights poisoning the dark
I wouldn’t know where hope lived anymore 
so that I could begin looking
for a better way to live


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