Sustainability

We are but a tiny blip in the history of mankind,
As every man knows – but pays it no mind,
To ponder on the way that it should be,
Is as a tiny stone thrown to the sea;
This minute space in time on which we stand,
Does compromise this notion of ‘our land’.

We are but a tiny smear upon the world,
But we forge on, though the obvious unfurled,
Spread-eagled across the pages of our lives,
We still rest here in delusion, peer out from the inside.
In school we learned about dinosaurs,
Ancient peoples, planets and wars,
Yet we fly in the face of context with arrogant brawn;
We do own this world because we were born,
Our land would sooner be engulfed by the ocean,
Before our straining fingers give up the notion
Of ownership of this ball of rock and water;
Our tenancy on this earth is but a slaughter.

To those who think that such emotion is unwise,
I beg of you, look up into the skies;
The clouds will mark the threshold of infinity,
We stand beneath convinced of our divinity,
But in sending out our prayers to he on high,
All we hear are echoes of the sky,
Rhetoric enough to start us talking;
You think in god’s own image we are walking?

We’ve witnessed cults grow, unabashed,
We’ve sold ourselves down the road for cash!

Even the best of our achievements
Cannot quench me of my grievance;
We’ve moved the earth with our hands just to please her,
Our blessed, vengeful, omnipotent leader.
In Egypt, Palestine and Sparta,
With every crack, the whip will make a martyr.
And what claims of the Lords’ generosity he did make;
Through one illustrious leader, the Lord had spake.
But those with dirty hands all passed away!
Those flogged and starved and poor were easy prey!

Let us not confuse my reason and beliefs;
Yes, every man with a whip is but a thief;
Though to lay the stone up to the sky the plan –
It means more than the name of one solitary man;
Though infamy was clearly the intention,
As he desperately vied for his ascension;
‘In this task, your ascension is in kind!
In stifling heat, forgiveness we will find!’

‘But that is not me!’ – I hear your denial,
‘It’s 2012, not BC on the Nile!’
Your point of view is something I’ve considered,
Under my scrutiny, has your judgement withered,
Departed from oppression are we now,
And to a different god entirely do we bow;
Currency, and all its freedoms, do we crave,
Happiness is as a capitalist slave,
Though the capital itself remains innate,
The greed of man causes him to fill his plate,
Adding precious stones into his crown,
He strives to find the place where he may set it down,
To behold his kingdom, to look upon with satisfaction,
What he’s earned, the product of his action.

For all my searching, the picture is the same;
The only thing to differ is the frame;
And every whip; transparent policy,
Written by men representing you and me,
To appease the gods who fill the coffers;
The Armani suits, the champagne quaffers,
For profit margins, we clear the way,
At any cost – we mustn’t stray!
‘To live our lives by other means
Is not an option!’ Westminster screams,
Though veiled – these words have been encoded,
Your subservience, little man, is noted.

But what of governance with a social motive?
The kind of which John Keynes had doted,
‘Tax them all and they would leave,
It’s better to offer them reprieve’.
So now my convictions are clear to me,
And you, in time, sure to agree,
The difference between the men with rocks,
And us, with coins, come in our flocks;
Is the font at which we pray –
The intangible has gone away,
Replaced by crimes of ‘necessity’,
Can you see a time where we’ll be free?
Of hierarchy, wool over eyes,
The hold of business, the taste of lies?

It’s time I got down off my horse,
I have not applied unreasonable force,
These – just the thoughts that cloud my head,
I don’t desire to be misread.
It boils down to what’s good, what’s rotten,
For what comes of us will be forgotten.