Ode to a pale male
The soft white male working hard for the money
walking with briefcase
suited and tied to desk and computer
stressed beyond the point of no return,
living creatively on drugs
just to escape the "fruits" of his labour;
a little house in suburbia with a neat green lawn
and maybe a pool too;
a decent enough wife,
if a little boring,
professionally engaged in the same pursuit of chasing the big buck down;
a brat or two in kindergarten,
mostly strangers parked in front of the telly,
but the newest model is in the garage with a gun in the safe,
just to keep out the big bad world,
stopping reality from seeping through ...
The soft white male sipping on whisky and ice,
surrounded by colleagues, friends,
each as vapidly lost as himself,
terminally bored, considering an affair,
maybe divorce, running away or even suicide ...
anything to let in a breath of fresh sanity
into the stale vacuum of slave existence
where the brainwashed
mix freely with the wannabes
and the sanctuary of spirituality is firmly forgotten
deep in the dungeons of all-encompassing greed.
As the very world wobbles,
starting to tailspin into oblivion,
we are still sipping cocktails
being soothed by the drone of big business telling us we're okay ...
everything is going to be fine,
at least for another ten years or so.
We still have enough time to screw over everything for just a little while longer.
So, go out and buy and work,
and spend, and plunder, and rape, and ignore,
and pass blithely by,
and laugh and cry, and smile,
and nod because everything is okay.
You see, all it takes is to sell your soul without shame,
without pain, stuffing your body, your mind, your home ...
accumulating mindlessly
till there is only the dull throb of hangover from overconsumption
and you wonder what will be next?
You are so dull and dumbed down,
jaded beyond redemption
jogging exhaustedly on the treadmill of instant relationships,
and love is being switched on and off with the flick of a remote control. You wake up in the morning wishing the day was already done,
counting the seconds of your life ...
ticking away like time bombs,
till you feel you're going to kill somebody,
maybe yourself,
but you are still stuck,
all the exits blocked ...
and the train won't slow down ...
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