“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.