Grimpillage’s Pilgrimage
We called ourself a poet once
But now those days undone
Behind before chance glance eye-lanced
The world’s already won
Empty leaves no longer clung
Leaves empty as a page
My breath beyond no shorter sprung
Again before unrage
Where anger led to peace before
Peace anger’s ally stays
Now stayed aloft in mystic war
Foreclosed, all other ways
There’s little System does these days
To make the heart a grower
Powers Over Us daren’t deign to praise
The giving up of power
All Conviction of the best
Convicted to a lack
Passionate Intensity reigns forth
Off the cliff’s top track
Off of the cliff top’s track
We can but only strain to
Imagine worlds wherein Cains Vain
For Power do not mean to
Enjoy act of control
alloyed to control act of enjoyment
As their hollow chest pumps roll
Millions to mock-employment
Technicity implores us all
to free our famished solace
Yet technics also cause loss, enthralled,
And open up new malice
Looks even like Icarus has to
Get to sun unbleached
While Sisyphus looks on, too,
His endless task complete.
Again to open Box Pandora?
Secure one helpless elpis, hope:
Unthink the roles the future holes
Barred from the untold most?
Or will we stay fucked in this hell
By those whose sight is short
Who what matters most can’t tell
Time almost can’t be bought
The one half-healthy eyes of
Westminster’s misters, Kremlin’s gremlins, the Far-too-White Wing House
have mind-forged monocles thereover
But screaming this at lung-top loudly, still, you feel like a mouse.
In this cosmos fungi now
eat plastic, yes it’s true
but journals only whisper wow
still no money there for you!
Most know permaculture can feed
More than chemical farming
Yet we obsess over the weed
And go about the harming
The world’s a better poet
Than you or I could hope
Stuck beyond within below it
Blown in the countless trope.
Our generation will s-cents the sillage
Not of Mammon’s virtual debt
But all will feel as Indra’s Net.
As merrily we wenden on our grimpillage.
