High Definition Living

 

 

Weaponize the weak

Loud and clear

Each word crafted as a spear of fear from giants ,

the meek stand defiant, no longer compliant ,

reliant or pliant to the trident of flagged soil,

A serpent coil framing turmoil traded in terror .

An over-bearer profiting from error and extraction

A rabid hocker of plastic distraction

Subtraction results in death

Additions can take breath

It’s a

Dickensian

Keynesian

Chaos engine

Chewing up flesh and dreams ,

Soot smoke screams stream through the carbon highs ,

We kiss the skies with gray pale eyes,

Our keyboard calloused finger tips slip across petroleum surfaces.

Morally vacant purposes placed upon pedestals and powdered with platitudes and gratitudes ,

Attitudes lost down the back of living-dead room couches.

Little comfortable pouches to hide and wallow

Stuck in our sorrow as we swallow tomorrow like mundane medication

Sedatives for the soul-searching sentience striving toward the void

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Pronouns and Prejudice

Comfort blanky labels and age old fables of boy meets girl

The girl can twirl in a dress

The boy can kill with the best

A false dichotomous test dividing the sea of we into us and them thinking

Part the sea and the ship starts sinking

The lights are blinking and the concrete is cold

When all’s done and told, we all fold into fetal positions

 

What’s the point in it all…?

What’s the point in it all , as we spin on this ball of water and dirt ?

We feel tiny and hurt by the expanse and limitations of our creations

Our collective destination lays with the soil or the stars

Buried in the Earth of our home or the grounds of Mars

Sure, we could stay here and just fight one and other over dwindling resources, whilst millions suffer

Or…

We could take all that money and head for the skies

Let humanity rise and enter the Universe , let our final verse traverse the expanse of creation

Our evolutionary destination lies within the skies

Carry On As Normal

Economic collapse

A right-wing relapse

Running in rat traps

Carry on as normal

Spiked concrete beds

Hitch-hiked heavy heads

Sunken levy beds

Roses without bread

Carry on as normal

180 seconds

They reckon

Can beckon in the new era of world peace without people

Slates from the civil-eyes’d steeple

The sequel will have no cast

No present, just a past long gone and degrading.

Signs of times fading into the fauna and flora

From Govanhill to the Tora Bora

Carry on as normal