Poem 19 in the ProCrasstheNation Poemvember Poetry Project arrived from Julia G. Thank you for the prodding. I don’t know how I came to this, but Hunter S. Thompson sums it up best, “No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride…and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well…maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.”
“Microscopic, or Falstaff’s folly”
I can’t see it,
but I know it’s there.
I will relay,
because what you perceive,
and rape me with that,
Sticking your belief projectile into my serenity.
Your constant need to validate your poor choices,
suggests that, maybe, just maybe, you’ve arrived at a shaky position.
Your ego gives no permission.
Except, the incessant derision,
of those who aren’t in position,
to fight back.
Compassion is lost on you.
Empathy, now curfewed,
Easier for you to be rude,
You sir, are no Christian.
Because, your mission,
hangs on a self-positioning,
On voting against your self-interest,
because others in authority tell you who to be scared of,
who to hate, who to believe you’re better than.
This view is myopic.
I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.
Inlaid, in the DNA.
Humanity can’t see or be seen.
Economics trickle up, no gravity.
Dreamweavers sell you an attractive lie,
that you buy word for word.
The American Dream is a nightmare.
We should be scared,
of those that dare to take,
and persuade you to hate,
your fellow man.
Humility is not in your war chest.
Your ideas are toxic.
They make me nauseous,
because they concern hurting others out of spite.
Turn your view upon yourself,
and shelf your hypocrisy.
You either help people,
or you standby while others hurt them.
It isn’t morality, just good sense.
Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.
Live and let live.
Help a brother out.
Sitting in the catbird seat, smiling wide.
We're all on a road to somewhere.
O zi minunată!
Island boy, city life.