You may stare at the screen
All you wish.
Everything you need will be
Provided.
All questions will be answered,
You will not feel a thing.
A numbing of the frontal lobe
Is normal.
Enjoy complete apathy
Punctuated with rising rage
Misdirected against
The innocent.
We count on your help.
All the same,
Searching for comfort
Over expansiveness.
All in boxes,
Complimenting each other
On their identical caskets.
All in a stupor,
Sleepwalking from
One reaction to another.
Once in a while,
Leave the lights and excitement,
Take the obligatory trip
To a sad town where
Sad people tell sad stories about
Things that never happened.
I offer my heart, my vision, my passion.
The inside of my being exposed,
Vulnerable, yearning for validation, a
Scrap of hope, shred of approval, an
Outstretched helping hand. Please
See who I am, potential, promise.
Intangibles fall unrecognized
Before timorous eyes.
She spends
Most of her time
Cleaning the house
And preparing food
For everyone else.
Once in a while
She’s permitted to
Go do the shopping
At the market and come
Straight back home.
Her brothers go off
To school each day,
She watches them
Longingly from
The window.
Sometime before she
Turns eighteen,
She will
Be promised to
A stranger.
Their march will continue,
Until every single
Person believes exactly
What they believe and
Acts exactly as they
Want everyone to act,
And looks exactly like
They all look,
And believes in the
Same fabricated nonsense.
Then they will find
Something else to revile,
Some other group to exclude,
Another contrived target to
Denigrate and spew their
Wretched,
Unquenchable,
Unlimited,
Unreasonable
Hate upon.
There’s really not much to it,
Just keep them off-balance by
Scaring them to death and feeding
Them a steady diet of misinformation,
Keep their attention on something
Else while you steal everything
They’ve got behind their backs
As they blame the wrong entities
For their continuing misfortune.
A bright light shines
On his embalmed face
As he promises the
Screaming throng of
Sycophants that he’ll
Destroy everything that
Provides safety and
Dignity to the destitute.
A roaring cheer explodes;
Finally, the prospect of
Putting the power back
Into the hands of those
Who least deserve it.
Teary eyes hoping for a
Better day for the chosen,
A far worse plight
For everyone else,
As it should be.
We hear about more
Human beings getting
Slaughtered, utter some
Disingenuous, meager platitudes,
Wring our hands a bit,
And then do nothing
To stop the carnage.
They disingenuously claim
That it’s not about
The implement, but rather
The person, but it’s
All too painfully clear
That’s it’s really about
Making money at any cost.
