Hierarchies of Free


Sometimes I feel as if there’s

a vast guerilla war going on

for the mind of man. . .”

-James Douglas Morrison-


It takes all strokes

            to run an empire;

Not just cyberneticians

            but

Plenty of ignorance,

            folks.

Making peace with the technocracies

            that done us

Like ant consciousness;

Taylorized into deniable complicity

And weaponized, the human

            resources

Secured inside economic

            prison circuits like electricity. 

Only what sells

            becomes

Tantamount to reality itself,

            the

Atomization by individual

            wills

Imposed on the collective

Unconscious of their own

            perspective.

If not for the interpellation

            of eyes

Broadly caste, though with covert

            spin; were

We not hypnotized by the

Axioms of exploitation

            and endless war,

Thinking them irreducible,

            pillars

Of just the way that things are;

Would we still believe that total

            obedience to

Authority is a fair measure

            of goodness,

 The cornerstone of morality?

Could we, in knowing a panacea

            may do

One of two things, namely

            liberate

Or enslave; might we still

Find ourselves so

            supremely rational

As to expect that

            technology can do both?

That the media forms

            aren’t static;

Nor subsistent on

            consuming dreams?

Where everything is always

            Just

                        as it seems.

            According to the

Schismogenetic

            application of

Right versus left,

            or that old

Millenarian dialectic which

            prefigures

Discrete beginnings from ends;

Wherever the boundlessness of spirit

            gets

Pigeonholed by the grace of Pan

            optics,

Or the forces of dissent

            are branded

Red,

            hot topical elisions 

Subsuming the subject until

            dulled

Completely, reified

            in the sense

                         that

Circumcision was the first transhumanism;

Wherever gross inequality

            festers

By design, but

            much

Like how poetry

            is

To the unlettered,

            everything

Must have just turned out that way

            seemingly at random.

For the enforcement

            of order

Breeds a profitable

            chaos;

And where today there is war,

            tomorrow

This could surely vanish,

            if only we

Banished the mandate

            for peace.

Yet, we consider as much

            naïve, 

Or rather delusional

            platitudes, fit only

For perhaps a dead

            writer or musician;

A kind of tall poppy that

            the

Orthodoxies of the present

Divide

            in order to

Conquer a once

Revolutionary life.

            Copied down and

Endlessly repeated into

            a series of easily

Digestible bromides.