Shedding a tear,
Bearing witness,
To the tragedy of our enslavement
By our own machinery.

But despair gives way to rage:
An emotion that genteel society
Expects us to gently hold within,
As if a flag could smother a supernova.

A tedious ritual of daily reminders
Of how disempowered we are,
Despite what the gurus of goodness
Try to sell to us,
Leaving a lingering constancy of
Headache and heartache.

This certain confusion is confusing certainly!

The impulse to solve this problem
Manifests in strange ways,
The multiform escape weaves deception:
Chemicals, possessions, fables, pleasures, personalities,
Or any number of perverse pursuits posing positively.

Until… The inevitable hand of reality
Slaps hard enough to break the spell.

Certainly a fight is to be had
A refusal to lay down and die
Before the monstrosity of
Our machine.