Apalogue

Suppression is the repression of depression and you are a part of their pill,

a mere etch on the bottom of the boot.

Here is a little bit of history: Our ancestors starved among plagues,

were forced to take refuge from the saber-tooth,

and withstood through an icy world.

One which healed to be destroyed.

Their survival is now in vain.

The powers that be and those of you who

subscribe to social media, choosing sides, selfies,

and simply not giving a shit have wiped your ass with it.

Food is mass produced and wasted. Our rights and thoughts

are now masturbated, and at the same time exacerbated

as an emotionally neglected child is labeled attention deficit

or an angry teenager depressed. There are labels for every color we feel.

We're meant to feel nothing but black and white.

No longer the saber-tooth, we now take refuge from each other all the while

fearing the ones who should protect us. Our ancestors died

so that you could drool over a hazy social machine,

the instagram that ran away with what our brains were programmed to do—

think.

Well, our ancestors also died for the big screen over the fireplace,

they especially died for the super bowl. It's of the utmost importance

that we watch two empty sides toss a metaphorical ball that is the mind of our society.

A premeditated victory. Which by the way, was already programmed like your mac book.

Never trust anything that is allowed to be public.

There is a new plague. A new seed. A Monsanto seed,

to appease a means of greed and restraint.

Be sure and take your flu vaccination before your soul is subjected

to another new and improved sickle cell anemia.

Our ancestors died in vain and all that is to be considered is

that Lil Wayne knows how to write nursery rhymes. Allow me to baptize you with mine.

 

Here we are with our drive-by degrees, scratching fleas,

as these pedigree pussies plague the people like a fucking disease.

Killing bees, killing trees, getting arrested for smoking tree.

We are slaves to the machine. We don't have to be.

Those mechanical souls which control the patrol call us proles,

but there's something that they don't know.

There are more of us than them.

We outnumber and we multiply.

The more brutality and fatality that is seen only fuses are nationalities as one.

Wise minds don't need guns. Our uprising has only begun.

Let's make amends with the amendments:

I give facebook and all entities associated with facebook

the permission to gather up the data of my hatred for

them, 'the man,' the powers that be. The multinational corporations,

republicans and democrats alike, the mundane routine of 9-5 jobs, pharmalyfe

and the suppression of sadness, anxiety, and anger.

I give them permission to filter out my personal and private thoughts

on my terroristic mindset on recent magazine articles on how to give a good blow job,

working hard and being hungry sometimes and having to put gas in my car.

Consume, consume, consume.

Thank, ford.

 

[amen]

 

 

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Our world

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