Judicious Slaves

If this, then that

ten of these, two of that

similar proportions, perpendicularity of pain, as seen

through a perpetuation of crunching number machines

Persistently fading into never-ever-land,

no matter what has and is or isn’t and won’t be done,

the hours extinguish and the pyre plays  

the final ashes of a flailing song

Solstices leap—

and jump higher—

than those vaunted beams—

oft balanced by the eyes of spoon-fed man

sometimes it feels,

as if the only oaths that matter,

are those force-fed regurgitations—regulations passed

from the mouths of invisible boss-men

to the hands that seed—unknowingly—

with the binding tenets graphed to flesh,

bound we become; bound we are

to propagate our own misfortunate scarring

They allow us what we think we want

they provide us with the thoughts they feed

empowering through asides and coercive acts

thus curating the souls path of arc

turning serf to purveyor,

whose own word of mouth marketing

is the pulpit, used as a vehicle for

convincing the misinformed,

that it’s in everyone’s best interests,

to keep the steel attached to lens

and they:

Satiate your promise

in all the vows you

break for them. 

Ensconcing your

fruition in all the lies

you’ve faked.

Judicious slaves

to toil evermore

bound to become

what we are

and what we’ve always been

                            the epitome

of the antithesis

         of all that’s truly free