Idle

This is a panicky poetic-freewrite; no form, no real reason other than I had just stepped out of a philosophy class whose students weren't aware of their own ironic behavior, as they vehemently berated people and ideas that told them that science was the

 

What seems to me the saddest thing

Is that in our age and time of great enlight

We feel the need to shake and cringe

At any mention of a higher height

 

The very idea of authority will make

From youngest babe to oldest mate

With anger and malice quake

And immediately begin to hate.

 

We fill our ears with screams of years

We let our heads never be without idle thought

Our eyes are full of variety and pain

And we tell ourselves, “We know, that death is all we have to gain.”

 

With ears infringed with speakers

Babies being born in beakers

Heads in the flashing boxes argue

Great men lied about, made an ague

For the happiness of billions

 

“Don’t tell us, please, that we are more than just chemical soup,

“Anyway, anyone who thinks we might be have let themselves from the group.

Busy, busy, busy we are.

We try to stretch ourselves out so far

Never let an idle moment by! Never be a waste!

Always run, never stop! Make haste! Make haste!

If you do not run, my son, you shall not win the race.

You shall not get a job, you shall not be happy, pick up your pace!

Do not read those thick, thick books.

Burn them! For that is all they are worth.

Despite the pretty words of their authors, where are they now?

Dead, just like we shall be only a few short years from now. 

The man of science! The one with the pen in his ear,

The gieger counter at his wrist, bubbling cylinders at his rear

He is the one to follow! Show us the way, oh enlightened one!

Shun the man with the black collar, burn the bearded ones!

God? Who is this God of whom you speak?

Did He tell you to kill people? Well, then what a freak!

What God is there that would tell man to harm?

Such a being could not exist, so I have no need for alarm.

Generalize? Why thank you, yes I may. 

At least everyone I know and you too will be dead someday.

The planet will cook, the creatures will fry

Rivers shall boil, poisoned children will cry.

I have no need to fear, it will not happen in my time.

Nor will I worry my children will become cosmic chyme.

Men of inconsistencies, people of guilt

All these lies for yourselves you have built.

Why? Why should you worry about tomorrow?

Why should you worry that you may actually have to return what you borrow?

Why do you think you may need to shut the music off to listen?

Why does the TV and computer have an off-switch that glistens?

Libraries fill, landfills run over

Cars trample them, and only a centimeter or two away

Certain death awaits. This is all we have. 

Do not shut your gadgets off! Continue your idle play!

Seek beauty and light, because obviously it shall fade someday.

Find peace in the sad mutterings of men whose brains are more chemical than human

The robots that command us, the children who listen to them.

It’s a Bradburian Nightmare, a Huxley Curse,

Silence is evil! All is quiet, something must have gone wrong!

You do not speak incessantly? What the problem? 

Why don’t you panic with the rest?!

Why aren’t your minutes filled with idle wasting?

Where are the sex objects whose bodies you should be tasting?

I am still.

I am calm.

I shall live on,

And tomorrow,

You, and only you, shall be gone.

Author's Note

Yeah, it's not normal poetry in any sense. I hope it's at least partially coherent, though.

Reviews

[Hedra Helix]

its dense in the middle but it makes perfect sense and the quirky smartness you infuse in the first three stanzas made me take the deep breath and plunge.

Id say structure is the only thing id tweak just so that its acessable to more ppl (damn i hate giving advice to dumb down) alas, i think thats the whole thing, in life, realizing that the world has rules made of old instincts turned into new perversions because of lack of necessity for named instincts in our new plastic communities,
whats more, cant take yourself out of the bubble coke a cola is too widely distributed, but you can learn from their marketing dept, be as sneaky as they are- for the good- and set your s**t up so it hits just as hard as their plastic riddiculousnes.

do you get what i mean?

otherwise really really nice write, i totally enjoyed it.