It’s Been Days and I still Can’t Name This One (poem).
In the eve
Of crashing economies
That never seem to collapse
And dissolving political landscapes
That never seem to change
We feel like rats.
We truly do.
Rats in a maze
Or ants in the sand
We are contained
And prayed upon,
Fed, yet controlled
Who never seem to fall ill
Once the rations go sour
And we are eating our crumbs.
Keep calm and carry on
God Save the Queen,
And manageable inflation.
If anything at all,
Four hundred years of “corporation”
Have thought us
Wealth always only goes one way
So we retract
We take shelter into small homes
That seem to be getting smaller every year.
We give in to simple pleasures of the flesh
Drink ‘til we’re numb
And fuck the pain away.
We indulge in the faceless idols of the world
The ever changing faces
Spoon fed, sure
But force fed, still
Through screen and paper
We receive their impossible iterations
And accept our feeble limits.
We feel irrelevant
We become irrelevant
Destined to fail
With no end in sight.
We find ourselves stuck.
Trapped somewhere in the middle
Down inside the limbo
Of desensitized aggression
And sexualized despair.
We seek revenge on people who have done us no wrong
We wish harm on those would could do us good
We take it all for fact
And to hell with the consequences.
We hate for the simple fact that it is easy
And natural to us
Hatred can be as natural to man
And any man,
There are no exceptions to this.
Hatred can be as natural to man as love can be
So why does it feel so simple
Why does it feel so seamless?
Why does it seem so fulfilling?
Maybe hunger has something to do with it.
There has to be a reason.
Debt and taxes and all the wars of the world?
The victims always sound the same.
Over 2000 years since Thucydides
And we have yet to learn a thing.
Same questions hoping for new answers?
Not a god damned thing, I tell you.