Arrested Enlistment
Any anchor pulling me towards
Some shore on which I would be
Able to care, reminisce or to go by.
I just feel nothing… nothing
With a tad of anger
Anger towards authority
Towards the loss of freedom,
The male superiority and the hegemony
Towards idiocy and cowardice
The malleability of the human soul.
There is virtually nothing to ground your feelings here…
Maybe I should care more about
The negative, maybe I should REBEL!
But no, I know myself better
Passive aggressive is my way
It is the flood channel of my dam,
and the reservoir.
But the dam is full and I,
I, cannot let any of it out.
I feel something now, feeling of
Being suppressed, feeling of planned
Obsolescence, the forging hammer on my
Skin, hitting me into the anvil, shaping.
Sharpening the most useless parts
And chopping away the humanity
One blow at a time. One order
At… a… time…
Legs do not obey, the arms flail
Chest deflated and the eyes half mast
With a drool hanging on the chin.
Sad, sad tired people. If you call them
That.
The camaraderie is in its most primitive,
People putting on a show and entertaining
Themselves with the kindergarten humour.
Maybe shit flinging ape humour, though
I did not witness such a thing
But am afraid to say I can believe
If I hear it.
STUPID PEOPLE WITH GUNS: ARMY
Rehearsal of a lifetime cannot manage
To teach dogs how to fly.
But us capable, almighty humankind
Try and enjoy the failure.
A Bias of perception, mostly harmless,
Ends up killing millions and more
Frustrated souls pay Charon their toll
And others, billions travel with
Shining eye sockets, for the River is
Long and exacts a heavy revenge.
Passage for the innocent is contaminated
With the filth of the sinners
Seeping through the cracks in
Their rickety golden boats.
Oh greats, what did you left us
Other than the words to go by
Or the ability to slip in your shoes and
Maybe able to experience, we are
The worlds you created.
Pulled my hairs out to remember
Rejoice, taste it all again.
Failed every time I tried
Disappointment hit hard
Crumbled every world that I touched
In every attempt I created new ones.
Scream at it, what I wanted
Couldn’t even managed that.
Put metals through the flesh
But I can’t ever be as bold as that.
Getting sick and nauseous of this
Man was not created to live with others
Like peacocks they try to outshine
Each other to satisfy their fragile
Horribly disfigured and effeminate egos.
Sad, sad bunch of animals are humans.
No hope for rescue, disappointingly cruel.
Intellect is a race track,
With all the race cars and the audience.
Some may gain the right and the way
To be on the track and
Seize the opportunity. But some
Some unfortunate bunch, more than
A bunch, just suffer in the
Sidelines, so close to the speedway at
Culture but destined to just sit and
watch… comment…criticise
