A panoply of paranoid law-makers and loutish
old men stand on top of a ladder made from the
bones of the slavish, the fallen, the forgotten.
“Consume,” they chant in unison.
“Consume the earth before it consumes you.”
They don’t want us to think.
They want us to agree with every duplicitous word.
The morning paper, the television, the corporations…
the panoply controls them.
The profusion of their propaganda is an endemic drug, capitalistic
oxycontin, technocratic heroin, secular sorrow.
It’s all there to deaden a greater purpose, a greater sense of being.
But we don’t have to buy in, nor do we have to slam a deviant fist
of disapproval into the punching bag of hate.
This would be counterproductive.
The ultimate solution will come when
when we raise the flag of the compassionate mind,
and ride the equine goddesses
of gnosis across fields of infinite frequencies.
Then the truth shall find its ultimate seat in the heart-eye.
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