Countdown

Sitting alone and thinking, wishing for the ‘Dilemma-buster Fairy’ to appear before me, in her tantalizing green hoop-skirt, blowing her orange kazoo of distributive justice, warding off inequity and sin like sunscreen to UV rays, perhaps granting me a wish or three that I may take initiative in a world that quickly drags itself, where all things rapidly decelerate, one may imagine a sloth on methamphetamines to grasp the contradiction, which, in turn, shines a particularly weak yet somehow revealing light upon the absolute futility I feel.

What can I do about it?

Quicksand and quagmire, there are so few words that start with ‘Q’ that to find two that are particularly fitting is queer.  It’s a mess.  Like a giant, blind, deaf toddler with infinite momentum, I see my society run amuck.

I have no people.  What do ‘we’ know besides that which is contained in the encyclopedias?

Endlessly dancing to no drummer at all, none hear or think to look for the beat.  We are a soaring flightless bird, ignorant of the inevitable fall from gilded sky to granite street. Precarious, fatal, absurd.

There once was a city on Earth

That had no idea of its worth

It boasted and bragged

But was finally snagged

When it’s ultra-expansive capitalist economy imploded

I don’t like the way things are going.

I’ve got a bad feeling that’s growing

Selfish, shortsighted and wild

And scared like a cold, hungry child

Unfit to rule the world as

Savagely

As we do

With duct-taped mouths unable to cry

A single, glass tear from our eye

Stop.  Please stop.  Please.

Boom.