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Poem

from all the excitement that we pretend exists in the world &
the meaning that we tend to try & make for 
ourselves
we are left in the wide open space of a barren field
a parking lot
an empty alley 
with nothing but the lint in our pockets & a 
few
knives---
so what do we do with ourselves,
pacing back & forth within the lifespan that yields more
tragedy &
sorrow
than anything else?
if we distract ourselves from the disgusting face of our own human
existence
we are all hypocrites 
not facing the facts that our own responsibility for the mass murders &
the desecration of each other
through cycles of history’s turmoil
lies in our own bloody & dirty 
hands---
out of the orifice of sheer boredom comes the impulse to
loot
to burn the world in effigy
to tear down the structures that solidify our mundane nature of this
21st century
our “western civilization” dwells with the fakery of 
a higher prison volume &
more surveillance of the public by the private corporate
whores walk amongst us 
wanting to turn us all to cash---
you have to wonder how different the richest of the rich are
when it comes to the concept of
boredom,
are they out in the alleys at night like 
patrick bateman of ellis’ 
american psycho,
having exacerbated every possible modicum of
entertainment &
abuse of all substances imaginable?
do they now seek a thrill kill
repeatedly?
it makes one wonder
if the drones being flown by our
military 
have really been auctioned off to the highest bidder
who now sits at home
committing real atrocities
as if they were playing with an xbox or
wii.

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