Out of Mind
Anything deep will take you straight to the material,
And so superficiality is the denial of this.
What is there to be gained from sticking to a glossy sheen?
It is no less than material enrichment.
Factoring all the ways to manufacture a rationalization
is a full time gig.
So is being homeless by the way.
The conservative changes out of youth
To deny others change.
When to see that we are inwardly the same
But in as much appearance as experience altered;
Clinging to the innocence which once was,
Power tries to enshrine
A cult to the good old days.
The Magic of Oppression
A child of luxury,
Who is not taken in by these commodity
And fetish. Let him go live on the street,
Then he will see the necessity to live communally.
For the street is merely an artificial commons,
Which becomes the ugly mirror
Of what the commons used to be.
Drained of all use,
By a bureaucracy backed up by force,
You can’t grow money out here.
And it is ultimately this image,
A mere abstraction of a promise,
That reduces what is priceless into nothing.
A shadow looms over your bed,
Scatters maniacally like light,
And all you did was wake up with the pleasant discomfort
Of the residue of a naughty dream.
No wonder one might have that feeling of living in a world turned upside down;
Where a rigid word that grew as if out of fears of miscegenation
Can still hang like the spirit of good over the horrid truth of the past.
We so hate the feeling of dead time
That we would rather be in a rush,
And perhaps both represent some fear unconsciously.
A desire to be anywhere but here.
Is it you time, the very concept,
A more acute awareness of losing or gaining,
A notion in the very tilt of the clock hand,
Or arbitrary angle of the number’s design.
Or price fluctuating on a necessary commodity,
That conditions us into the alienation from ourselves?
Light Through The Cracks
In my solitude,
I pen the names Julian and Stella,
And think of the sadness from son to father,
The warm noble face of John Shipton,
And imagining that an Empire of lies will fall
As a family is reunited.
I have been alone in my worries
As long as you were captured and imprisoned for publishing truth,
As long as the apathy of a nation has been amnesiac
Of the crimes of their government,
For as long as waking up to truth, in the imperial core,
Is as the construction of a solitary jail cell.
Rather than the deterioration of your person,
May these structures collapse in all their evil glory,
Around the sky and the star.