WHERE WE ARE, APPARENTLY

Look down at the sodium stars
Of a pessimistic skyline
Beneath the black anonymity,
The expansive anything.
The 'Summun bonum'*
Is but an ominous question mark,

Apparently.


Look down on all breath and blood
Transparently eclipsing the obvious essentials.
When the blatant hides behind the invisible
You’re lost inside last century’s explanation
And you need to keep up with the times,

Apparently.


This advertising nihilism;
A pseudo ambition,
Chasing your own tale.
A rejection, replacing what yesterday overlooked,
Tracing an orbit in the heavens;
Circling the drain;
The meaningless of our own answers.


Scoff at the scent of superstition
As poetry disintegrates into
Uninventive descriptions of depravity,
Because you’re not truly right
Unless you don’t believe in truth,
And it’s beneficial to swallow your own teeth,

Apparently.


Now sweat, not from heat
But the embarrassment of
Something that you have never said,
You took progress for granted.
Now intercontinental apocalyptic rumours fly overhead
You must keep your head down to survive,

Apparently.


The establishment and conspiracy theory;
Pseudo ambitions,
Chasing your own tale.
Self deprecating answers,
Tracing orbits in the heavens;
Circling the drain.
Being unaware or deliberately ignorant
...Of the bigger picture
...Of the real problem
...And the true answer




*The highest possible good

Inspired by research into social and cultural development, particularly with reference to Pitirim Sorokin and his concept of the Sensate Culture.

Written late October 2009