Tuesday, October 13, 2009

New Poem: Beyond the Edge of the Chessboard

Beyond the Edge of the Chessboard
don't worry. be happy.
the politicians pharamceutical companies
bankers lawyers doctors
various NWO conspiracies
religious fakers
media whores
telephone name-takers
advertising CEO's
have got a PLAN for you.

they're not necessarily in collusion
but they're all selling variations of the same illusion
and, despite the apparently conflicting world-view solutions,
the resolution is always about

gimme dat, gimme dat, gimme gimme gimme dat
whole lotsa

their quest for money seems funny
because in order to get it, they need to be phoney
because the reality of their ghoulish greed
even frightens them.
they have the best
and various other ways of disguising themselves
and like all liars, are skilled at lying to themselves
to avoid the truth of six feet of dirt
all the land they'll ever really need
to hide their remains
until rot and decay
reveal humanity's true face

and, unlikely as it is,
they've sold these masks to us
telling us
don't worry, be happy
because happy faces sell products
happy faces make the malls more inviting
happy faces on the drug commercials
make you wonder what you're missing
if you don't take that blue pill
that gives you a 3-hour erection
blood rushing to a place
where (at least in the male body) it tends to remain
at the deficit of the brain.

What? You're not HAPPY?
You didn't buy the latest product?
You didn't read the Wall Street Journal?
You didn't give envy run of the house
so that you can get one-up on your neighbor
and own a bigger plasma TV, bigger SUV,
bigger ass from eating bigger burgers?
what are you, some kind of
intelligent, self-aware, thinking creature?

And, here's a guy in the White House
who's been promising change,
but it's not likely to add any change to your pockets
while he's riding around in jets and limousines
and spending thousands on an inaugural ball
just like his predecessor, only more media-friendly
and a lot more articulate.
and look at all these glossy flyers
submitted to each post office box
by the latest political candidates
who seem to enjoy flinging poop at each other
like monkeys in the zoo
only, there's no bars around these animals,
so some of the shit's likely to land on you.

don't worry, be happy,
even when 2012 looms on the Mayan Calendar,
and even if it isn't the end of the world
all those wealthy men
will find a way to make the doomsday trend
line their pockets once again
(remember Y2K?)

don't be happy. worry.
we've let these idiots play the tune too long
it's the same old song they've played
since they nailed God's Son to a tree,
and they've even taken that piece of history
and used it for their own purposes
and if you buy into the lie, sucker,
YOU'VE been played.
you're just a pawn on the chessboard
allowed to move in tightly restricted lines
and if they need to sacrifice you
to protect their king and queen,
they won't hesitate . . .
step outside the lines
demand their attention
remind them that we outnumber them
and let them know what it's like

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