2024 – poorman'sdreams

I’m often, mentally, brought to my knees, with melancholy, when I think, of, the utter callousness, of, the human species.

My cerebellum’s, figurative, grey, grazed patellae are; a metaphor, which compound the pleading, within my mind, for mankind to stop, and, think.

Think about our selfish, greedy, unflinching nature.

Think about our incredible lack of foresight. Foresight, for not only our fellow genus, but, the wider amalgam, of; wildlife, biodiversity, planetary ecology, and, ultimately, our world, and, universe.

Our arrogance, and, sense of self, have become, our own baited, foolish, avaricious universes.
Solitary, loathsome universes, filled with;
galaxies of material wishes,
solar systems of Internet based gratification,
constellations of exploitation,
and, nebulae that beckon fruitless, divisive competition.

All in the hope of ‘getting ahead’ and/or ‘becoming a star’.

Ironically, we are all composed, of; stardust.

And, on that basis, I believe that we should do everything, humanly possible, to create our own; galaxy of justice – here on Earth.

A galaxy, where, instead of compete for monetary wealth, (a practice which has long seen; each, and, every genius star, capable of contributing any egalitarian offering to humanity – “miraculously” being snuffed out by the establishment e.g. Nikolai Tesla etc.) we, lift one another up, amasse, and, unite – within our; ninety-nine-percent nebula.

By eradicating, the elitist; Black Hole, we, together; can create real, monumental change. The kind of change, which will, echo, throughout; the generations, heavens, realms, and, multiverses.

Whilst standing idly by, the so-called ‘elites’ will continue to;
imbibe our misery,
bathe in our systematic poverty,
mop up any hope of our revolution,
and, spew propaganda, via every form of media, to poison the minds of; every generation, it has the manical pleasure of tainting.

The time is now to; expand our minds, gravitate to one another’s plight, and, escape, revolt, and destroy; the elitist Black Hole, which delights in our unchained servitude.

Don’t, just, be a star. Become a galaxy.

Can you not see?
How the eye of Providence; took;
taking the knee,
from, a; symbol against racial oppression,
and, turned it, into; a token gesture, of; clichéd ubiquity?
Sensing, that; triviality breeds contempt.

Can you not hear?
Those talking heads; happily regurgitating;
the party line; year, after year, after year.
And, no matter, the party bag, of; manifestos,
debates, campaigns, pledges, and, “fresh ideas”,
your suffrage, still, just, became; party games, of; pass-the-parcel, and, musical chairs.

Can you not smell?
that manure, from; elected bulls, and, horses,
that; democratic excrement, upheld,
spread by empty hearts, and, heads,
sheafed; by empty hands, unto; empty mouths, fed on; empty rhetoric; impelled,
combined, and, harvested, in fields of constituent disappointment.

Can you not feel?
a world, of; incarcerated prisoners;
suffering, spiralling; their spirits squeal,
their jail, is; bipolar, under; stars, and, sun, and, howling moon,
a populi, shackled, to; terrafirma’s wheel,
unspoken; their grief, is, always; roundabout.

Can you not taste?
the air, of; uncompassionate attitudes,
the sea of hypocritical platitudes; disgraced,
their inability to empathise, or, attempt –
to wear, the shoe, of, those; souls unsaved,
an acerbic, acrid, acetic land awaits.

The false prophet,
reveals; the aromatic secrets, you long to hear; as, long, as; they occur, after…
nosing – your terminal diagnoses.

The mediocre medium,
always has, a; cup half-full approach, snooting distastefully, when it comes to, client’s custom, for: spirits, sessions, seances, and, simony.

The blinkered seer,
scorns; all other, visionaries, and, spits out; spiteful premonitions, whilst, feeling; unhappily-everafter.

And, all three zealots, in hindsight; look back, universally, due to, forever, being; seen, as the epitome, of; irony.