The imposition of will
Requires no thoughtfulness,
Just the compulsion to force
Someone else to be a person
They are not, to demand
Adherence to some arbitrary,
Ever-shifting whim, fealty
To the pouting child who
Wants his toy right now.
There came a time
When it was virtually
Impossible to have
Any kind of civil
Conversation with him,
All traces of humanity
And rationality had
Been surreptitiously
Extirpated from his mind,
Leaving only an angry shell.
Never having endured
A single day of discrimination,
Or been treated differently solely
Because of how they look –
Deemed to be less than human –
Traded as a commodity
To enrich soulless captors,
They declare that all strife
Is over, deep historical,
Personal wounds glossed-over
In a single cavalier pronouncement,
The suffering of millions
Reduced to a sound bite
Promulgated by thoughtless louts.
He’s building a sumptuous
Penthouse appointed with
The most lavish details
And plush furnishings
For his surgically-enhanced wife
Who refuses to succumb
To the effects of aging
(Not that he hasn’t visited
Their favorite surgeon as well).
No expense is spared in
Building this magnificent
Showcase overlooking the ocean.
Once a month or so,
He tours the construction site,
Demanding that this or that
Be changed or noting that something
Isn’t quite to specifications
(A pastime his wife enjoys too).
The workers nod accommodatingly,
Finish another long shift, and
Go home to their shacks.
Walking into a room,
Unpleasant realization,
No one else like you,
No one shares any of
Your sensibility.
Unnuanced,
Coarse environment,
Guarded people
Hiding behind walls of
Small talk.
They sit down to
Play a game and it
Quickly descends into
A nightmarish battle
Between two people who
Feel inadequate unless
They are destroying
Someone else.
Walks around in a
Cozy, clueless cocoon,
Spouting off nonsense
As if it were true.
Says anything and
Everything she wants,
Soiled, sordid
Inner process revealed.
Cruel conditioning belies
Inexistent contrition,
Catatonic state of
Unmindful destruction.
Unending flow of information —
Hyper-stimulation.
Neurons firing chaotically,
Entertainment blather,
The superficial supersedes.
Like the easy stuff,
Eschew deeper meaning
Requiring extra effort —
Critical thinking,
Reflection.
The odd child,
It languishes alone,
Brushed aside, unstudied,
Ignored, but no less
Important, valuable.
Nothing left for me
To say except for
I wish it had ended sooner.
It wasn’t so much
That you were annoying as
The complete absence of decorum.
Repository of unawareness,
A dimly lit wit
Imposing itself on everyone,
Coughing fit of nonsense,
Gleefully spewed upon us.
I would bet anything
You had no clue it happened,
Habits being what they are,
On to the next offense.
