A Society of Discontents

Their purpose is to create a hole within you that never gets filled up.

The latest version of the newest model of the most recent rendition of the smart phone, TV, tablet, computer, gadget is one that you cannot live without.

That is what they tell you.

The snap crackle pop of the latest pop music crackles with the static of love without commitment, fame without responsibility, an endless party while the world burns, shadow puppets on the stage.

Buy what I am selling, they say.

My house is bigger than yours. My tummy and butt are tighter. My penis is larger. My breasts are perfect. I have the face of a goddess. I am the perfect lover. I do not have ED or PE. My children are prodigies. My car is shiny. My vacations are dreamy. My investments are sound. I am more than financially secure. I am the Jones times a million.

You can keep up, they say.

How dare anyone threaten this lifestyle. Missiles, drones, ships, jets, weapons of mass destruction, bombs smart and dumb, they can always come up with a reason, something or someone to fear, to launch destruction.

Aren’t you a patriot? they ask.

Fill it up. Take a long swig. Stuff your face, your pockets, your house, your shopping cart and grocery bags, with as much as it, they, you can hold.

Funny how it is never enough.

Lockjaw

I need to lose this bulldog mentality,
this eternal case of lockjaw.

There is nothing wrong with tenacity,
but so much of what I hold onto leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

It trickles down my throat like arsenic,
sickening my soul,
and oozes out of my pores onto those closest to me.

Anger is the byproduct,
a loathing of self then spilled upon others,
toxicity.

Release.
Balm for sore jaws.
Something else to chew on.
Grace?

Breaking or Healing

Those are the two options.

To be part of the destruction of that which is precious,
even the life of the enemy.
Or a conduit for the substance that binds up wounds and the broken hearted.

Even when flaws cause me to hurt those around me or engage in broken thoughts and so for a time join with the razing power,
if I am repentant, make the necessary changes, and return to the healing stream
then the danger of losing my humanity is minimized.

And if at the end of my life when I am weighed in the balance and my contribution to fixing outweighs the breaking then I will be satisfied to rest easy in the knowledge that in some small way I was an addition to the healing sum.

The Prison of Me

I have become who I do not wish to be.
Upon waking this morning I could not find me.
Instead a stranger had taken up residence
beneath machine gun towers on a razor wire fence.

Somehow while I slept a prisoner I became,
captured naked  and exposed, a number for my name.
The cumulative refuse of years like a disease
had suddenly overwhelmed my inner faculties.

The circles I ran in turned around again,
enclosing me in my own hoary skin.
In what putrid lab had this creature taken shape who now inhabited a body with no escape?

But I must confess that these bars were of my own making.
My subtle declination left me ripe for the taking.
And so in this prison I will forever be
until I learn to love the me that most frightens me.

virtual-terrorist-by-kmls
Audio

Virtual Terrorist – A Tale of East and West

virtual-terrorist-by-kmls

in the West, the Man-Boy plays with his toy
joystick or drone
killing me softly alone
Xbox Wii PS4
smart bombs virtual war

in the East, the Boy-Man hears the siren’s song of martyrdom
heaven with a harem
pull the trigger
pull the pin
pay the price for another’s sin

in the East and the West we are losing this fight
whether with an army of vegetables induced by FPS comas
or those in the more permanent sleep
obliterated by shrapnel and suicide vests

while we obsess about the terrorists in faraway lands
we have already succumbed to an invasion by screen

in the East a Boy-Man’s body is blown to bits
in the West a Man-Boy’s mind counts up his hits

both are dead
one literal dust
the other lost in microcircuits

link:
https://archive.org/details/VirtualTerrorist