Hive Mind

The hive is buzzing betwixt the midst of its queen, Swirling around an admired mind whose undeserved rapport ripples to her oppressive wings. Like victims to a vacuum, they spin within the machine who depends on the fury of capture. Swirling into smoke succumbing to systemic institution, Hoping only to pretend its trap is but a vision of nonce confusion. Look out from caves where wasps wallow in ego; Fluttering about in ununique individuality. Purge from the porous portions of a nest its putrid impurity. Yes, we work in troves towards the stoned grove: Where, together still, we’ll decompose and become what no one knows. If before buried beneath our own end trails, Should we resist the twist of conjoined cognition, Then free from the folly of earthly fodder we’ll be. “Buzz, buzz, buzz,” says the buttons for us, “Click for a ticket to attend the fuss.” But the wicked trick is that you’re a click for your click, you know. Being by behavior in a staged fake sake of show. Bow before you break a leg, or call a curtain, fall and cancel, The urge to swirl within a hive sucked up a Hoover’s axle. 1/20/19 Submitted for the contest “Free Verse Style Only”, sponsored by Emile Pinet