paleomammalian brain triangulation...

paleomammalian brain triangulation 
is a brine of reasons we often 
don't give a fuck about you
(we need the crows to survive us all)


Are we in a rush to a judgement era...has technology 
and a further and further divided sense of propriety 
given humanity over to an incurable mob 
mentality...perhaps, rabbit, perhaps...I'll just leave the 
gas on and fall asleep drunk while watching some TV 
and smoking cigarettes...they'll write some blurb about 
carelessness and there ought to be a law...but most of 
you will have made up your minds...driven by 
descriptive shallow fomenting of a bent sense of 
immediacy...you'll plunge right into your fantasy while 
the poem knows...that I have electric smokes and 
stoves...


bangers, mash, metal jacket-ing and the Gaia principle


I'm just thinking about how the drumbeats of our 
streets of modernity are epitomized by these electronic 
cigarettes...bingo caller auctioneers and the collars we 
wear, presenting ourselves as part 
of some group different from the rest of us...
are we still human 
having more humans 
who then have more humans 
just to have more humans...? 

they too will lose their cool too often 
playing heartless fools made offstage 
somewhere as being someone needing 
to be constantly entertained and stimulated...

our brain is a hardwired survival, our body a vehicle for 
those roads and our spirit, well at one time it may have 
been an unbreakable thing...now we're sold to sell 
ourselves between the heavens and hells in piece-meal 
subscription plans for an after-world of pleasure or pain 
depending on your perspective and how much moral 
debt you will be perceived to have attained trying to live, 
drinking kool-aid here...

the best form of gun control might be education, well 
intended but corporate serving writs and legislation are 
divisive at best, destructive at worst...see stupidity is 
contagious, comfortable nimby hypnosis, even more so...
we have become mostly sheep, fed sheep and more 
sheep...the lions don't even say thank you 
anymore...and we wouldn't know 
that to object is to assert 
how free souls interact 
in a wise and compassionate 
common good seen...
this neighborhood, Mars says, 
is no longer thriving 
in a way it might 
or should be...

the blue marble next door's 
viral contaminants have run roughshod 
over the verdant tongues 
dotted with mountains 
the rivers between them...

where and when do crows stop picking up 
the ever dropping pieces of my humanity...
I'm as matted and scattered 
as these beds of maple and oak leaves 
caught in swept curbs along the sides 
of houses and cornered front lawns 
on a warm December morning 
after a night filled with rain...


EJR ©