Living's bane, the dull, mundane! Whirling thoughts blown off track from dim-witted refrain, Berating the sane with feigned lolly-gag swain, Sans logic, sans value, sans a wont for a gain, sans a synapse or two from a well-ordered brain, their wails like the gale of a torrential rain, yells the swaggering crowd in undaunted disdain: Hand over your body, your mind and your name! We've naught left for patience, nor concern for your claims that the odes we detain fare haggard and lame, that our notions remain: to kill off all the best, and award only the tame. Governing by definition, say I, shackled upon their stand. These hapless decrees we discard with great ease, say the court appointees with a sludge like wheeze, and in a flurry of flack bring you fast to your knees, crush your soul, drain your mind, string your innards from trees, leave them dangling like garlands in the cold Christmas breeze, and with indolent glee, and bone crushing bite, bid our like-minded neighbors, sound sleep through the night! And with a whack of the gavel, with a manner polite, the judge clears his throat, seals the path of your plight. The defendant left to languish as the hangman knots the noose. Because this is their creed, hence the source of their need, like the ultra-fine print in the note of a deed, kept hidden from light, like an old miser's greed, their fear that impedes, then they thus fail to read: that their lives may amount to mere dustspecks on fleas, left awash in the fall rain's releasing.
Reason for writing:
I remember being particularly frustrated with ignorant mediocrity
that day . . . you know, one of those days when you really wonder
how the human species has made it as far as it has.
Birth sign: Not entered
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