Get Your Premium Membership

Rapacious Itch

Rapacious  Itch 


It felt things coming, 
The undeniable bottom feeder reality, 
Where thought had no credulity, 
Where irrational emoting ruled, 
Void of mind’s prep, 
Blind of light’s revealing purpose. 

Such remained 
This well-rehearsed and produced 
Pulp life infestation. 

It remembered… 

Once many clambered to the marble steps, 
Where dreams born of teachings 
Promised delivery of reward. 

But today…
 
All that is found 
Is perpetuation of schoolyard practices, 
Where bullying, 
Mocking, 
And “my dick is bigger than your dick” war-cries 
Intimidate life’s playground with slippery slopes. 

Down 5th Avenue, 
Up Park Avenue, 
The viral contaminants parlay their wears, 
A far more contagious disease than Ebola. 

And it knows… 

Unlike a possible cure for a biological virus, 
This consumerism equation seems without solution, 
Given little of non-material worth remains 
Visible on the species’ blackboard mess. 

Today’s squirming parade of absence 
Is dominated by the pounding of urban-warrior chests, 
Of Armani jackets atop unlaced “made-to-look-raunchy” boots, 
Ken Doll fantasies courting the strut of Barbie Doll dreams 
Clicking attention with stiletto heels 
Beneath ripped shorter than short-short insecurity. 

On it spreads, 
Past the Wall Street reviewing stands, 
Where unlike the fickle nature of society’s infection, 
Market makers understand a fever’s ups and downs, 
Vulnerability’s capricious norm endorsing today’s 
Debauchery fashion to Trump-taste, 
Loudness to drown out worthy music, 
Shock to shatter the true awe of discovery, 
And the drowning of excellence
As it continues its desperate clinging, 
All while mediocrity’s narcissistic sell-off 
Creates another closing-bell windfall. 

The pestilence holds firm its lock on discernment’s immune system, 
Mutating daily into a mind-shrinking captivity, 
A synaptic virulence rapidly rendering this once simple discomfort 
Into an insatiable itch that will never realize its pursuit of “Ah!”.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 5/21/2018 6:09:00 AM
Oh, yes, and that last line! Sharp ink. Mo
Login to Reply

Book: Reflection on the Important Things