Friday, August 26, 2011

Lust


Lust

I don't believe
in censorship,
I choose to see it all
and by default I allow myself to feel it all.
We must each allow this
in order to move forth
stepping onto a new path
we must step out of the circle that is history
in order to truly stop this repetition
of hatred,

of bullying, of segregation,
of prejudice, of intolerance, of ignorance,
of cruelty, of crimes against the natural order, of narcissism, of greed, of baseless wars,
of fear minus love.
Of fear minus love.
Of fear minus love.
It's all so plain to see, so why can't you see us?
I choose to see it all as it is, for what it is.

And in this
there are
still sharp strands of light
caught in clear crystal;

snapshots of beauty almost too grand to imagine
anylonger
like some far away dream we don't deserve,
and yet they're there-
as fragile as enigmatic petals to the bruising touch,
beyond our disillusions and hysterics
there are corners to our surprise-
left, untouched.
And here we dwell in the disease filled filth
of our basking,
growing as large as our ego's
as we try to consume the world whole
in unison we dislocate
our distorted and monstrous jaws in one massive bite power
we gnaw it away, burp out the cries,
excrete the destruction.
We're the human machine, can't you all see?
We're just living out our final days
in grandeur,
we bought into
lust,
from the super mass chained
megacorps that imprisoned us with their conveniences,
chaining our wanting mouths
to our transmogrified bellies.
We live now in the porous and cold
concrete skyline
we traded country windows, daisy crowns and bird watching
for plasma screens, porno and smart phones.
We walk under the shadowy figure of a man called capitalism.
We sold him our soul, our hearts, our bodies
our hope, and we took the money and ran, thinking we were made!
And now we're addicted to the toxic smog
of our seductive
and destructive desires,
of fear minus love.
Of fear minus love.
Of fear minus love.
We're all lost, in lust.


1 comment:

  1. Gets me way down deep, to a place of impulse but with a twist of guilt.

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