MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 2)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence about war, God, moral, antiseptic administrative hubs, euphemism, the Etch-A-Sketch shake of Armageddon, Orwellian right think, pink slips, panhandlers, technology
names pixilated into digits helped them barter rights like dividends “collateral damage,” “enhanced interrogation”—perfume only amplifying the reek panic triggered by infrasound yet another predictor of end times disappointed that it did not come conscience defected on the ground: the massacre directive launched from an office far removed, its weather chitchat around the breakroom cooler antiseptic like any other day assuming a free-range life and a painless slaughter, it appears pure equal-treatment violating selfishness—the same that has us protect only cute endangered species—to respect animal but not plant life what matter is climate change or the insolvency of social security— why fret and scramble—when Jesus, slated to return in a few years, will set aright all the turmoil with his eschatological sword of love? becoming great at your art from early on, in fear of being sent away otherwise false assurance of a divine savior excuses our paralysis, life on loan slipping through idle fingers that form a “Fuck you!” to the real advent of duty shouldered in courage to get us to sacrifice our privilege to the disadvantaged group an effective strategy is to rear us in that group’s culture, such that at our core we aim for acceptance by that group parents whose grieving was loud enough to force the State to mandate screening of future infants become mothers to all the children saved in turn the social-media algorithms have made us all junkies of their feed, a feed soon to be automatically mainlined once we get that convenient implant said to complete our harvest-readiness for the super-AI looming on the horizon like sheltered immune systems assailing the body for sport (their cry for change clear), “sheltered” students assail whatever unsettles their “easily-unsettled” selves, turning academia—now that every dean has become “woke” to the cancel ethos—myocarditic kids on the pull-out sofa and parents on the floor all the soldiers, even those on the bad side, bleed homesick songs the cop flips to cartoons before speaking to the nail-biting mother terminal news in a ginger tone torching with talk of “enemy,” what we cannot bear to see as, someone else’s hearth that panic inside the child who lost his mother in the supermarket behind that desk on which bomb orders are signed lies a private battlefield a repeated error: tweaking just this bit over here, despite how networked we are panhandler pity limps resulting in real limps over time pink slips and other sufferings unpacked from sterile containers the emperor commanded carnage from marble remove diversity on campus yes, but—and now not even sotto voce!—intellectual diversity no in the large company of those desperate to convince themselves that they live how they want crisis ignored spells crisis multiplied, so they say— forgetting in this case, however, that the Messiah will return (any day now) to shake the Etch A Sketch too cowardly to admit what in fact we well know (that our racial hatred has no basis, for example), we concoct reasons against what we well know sad when time is up, sad that you have no time to do what you always put off when you do have the time how trite it is: rebels becoming despots— talking about “right think,” pruning speech deemed unhealthy by corporate consensus
This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2017 portion of that five-part work.
