Most of the time she’s
All smiles and effusive
Kindness but every once
In a while something else
Appears, a face that
Speaks of needs unmet and
Scores unsettled, a primal
Shriek of pain and
Unhappiness tearing a ragged
Hole in the tenuous fabric
That is her daily appearance.
Fumbling around randomly
Trying to figure out
Who they are, where they
Belong, what they mean in
Relation to the greater
Scheme of things, but mostly
What can they do to receive
The greatest amount of pleasure
As quickly as possible with
The least amount of effort and
Without any regard for anyone
Else but themselves on this
Or any other day which could
Be used to gain greater personal
Insight but is expended instead
On the pursuit of the petty,
The saddest story being when
This particular modus vivendi
Is never transcended.
Aggressive roars disturb
The once peaceful neighborhood.
An old woman peers out
Through the shutters.
Another rumbling behemoth
Imposes its dominance.
A new way of doing things,
Flouting civility.
Just so its
Perfectly clear:
I polluted your
Water knowingly,
It fits with my
General philosophy
About business being
Able to do whatever
It wants and everyone
Else fending for
Himself or herself.
I don’t care if there are
Many other, more humane,
Ways to govern,
I take care of myself
And my own, period.
Looking back,
She should have known
That he would never listen.
Rationality would
Never be part of
His decision-making process.
He would make his choice
With no understanding of
Its ramifications.
There would never be
Any acknowledgment of any
Possibility of fallibility.
Things would always
Be this way,
Unexamined.
I’m not sure
If you’ve heard,
But everyone around
You has a different
Opinion of you than
You have of yourself.
Perhaps I’m stating
The obvious, but I
Wonder whether you
Might not realize
You have offended
Everyone, repeatedly.
In some small way
I wonder what it’s
Like to walk around
Oblivious to the pain
One is causing others,
Without a moment’s remorse.
It’s not that they’re
Not making money,
They’re making fistfuls
Of it, it’s just that they’re
Not making as much money
As they’d like to.
As has been shown
Time and again:
They can never make
Enough money,
No matter what
The cost.
Those devoted to creating
A world where every person
Fends for himself
(It’s always himself)
Never think beyond their
Next acquisition, their base
Hunger temporarily sated
By whatever petty victory
Convulses in front of them,
A dark scheme promising
Plenty of suffering and
Pleasurable moral tales
To make them feel good
About their depravity.
His entire world
Exists within a
Five mile radius,
By choice.
An exchange of a
Courageous life for the
Illusion of safety,
Joy for predictability.
Day after day,
The same thing,
Without variation.
