(May 29, 2017TheFeatheredSleep/ Source: Next)
99 percent click ‘next’
move on / lord knows / had it up to here with emotion and tell-all’s / give me some false with my cornflakes and a little fake juice
if you feel sad because nobody is listening, tune in
the record you play is scratched and everyone has upgraded to digital
their headphones drown you out truth-tellers / sorrow-spellers / drowned girls and boys
it’s their whim, their fancy, to inhabit the glory and the cavort
who taught you they wanted to hear about you?
those flashy egos who seek grandure, attention, praise, affirmation
do they place their hot hands on your grief? or pause and seek
anything but you
truth, it is said, doesn’t sell
honesty makes us tired
we want elixir, we need to be uplifted
read to me, tell me a bed time story with a happy ending and lots of pictures
in the news; photos are more popular in social media than words
says it all …
speak, speak no more
and if you do, ensure it’s after you take your pill
for you belong to the tribe of wonderment, nothing less will do
do not rent your heart online
do not display weakness or fear
whatever you do, don’t expose how it is
paint over / disguise / laugh / get pissed
and when you lay there feeling that sliced feeling in your gut
emptiness and her counterparts
when you bring the shards of glass closer
when you realize this is it, there is nobody out there
in this 7 plus billion world
less is more, more is less
how can we be so inhabited and so isolated?
do ghosts walk our lives with empty diaries?
the ones who crumple on their knees in the street
who picks them up and who hurries past?
with scorn written in their jowls
more and more we hang our heavy hearts
in places of silence and neglect
the pegs of our support, thin of reassurance and tenor
more and more we lose our truth in betrayal
and counter attack
until like a game, like a digital effect
we are not real, we are chess without hands
our feelings so siphoned and lost
they exist beyond us
it’s only when we feel the edge of the ledge
staring down into leaden rivers
then we know it’s all a joke
this idea we’re doing anything of worth
and the words you suffocated
trapped in throats like unhawked phlegm
never to be spat
what would they if they could, say?
don’t walk away
listen hear me
need someone who is not perfect
the girls who have friends
standing with gymnastic straight backs
smooth waxed hair and plump cheeks
talking over cigarettes, turned on by a switch
everything is different
until a man enters the room
all eyes flash in unison
he has power
the girls prioritize the phallus
the boys are drinking fluoridated water cutting off their
soon sexless frogs will spawn harpies
would it be so wrong if
we stopped now
at the cusp of our cruelty
died out before another era came, crueler still …
dominating fickle lay of shivering wasteland
another creed, another judgement
the Mormons are the largest expanding faith in America
do your research acolyte, then ask yourself
progress? Really?
who progresses when others are held back?
feet on backs of the fallen, that’s the way they roll
with tarnish set on high
we are the crushed on whom aniseed devils inherit kingdoms
sometimes I don’t care anymore
I just want to get into a boat and leave the shore
sail away to something of Huckleberry Finn
I understood him and his penchant for solitude
it wasn’t hate it was necessary isolation
from the wear and tear of jitter-bug humanity
gagging at the hurtling fense
with their sharp and mercilless claws
step down falsehood
let the wild hare, the quick footed fox
take over