From 2012: Super-Servile Sunday

Lawrence Mack Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
From The Road to Magdalena
Available from amazon.com as
a Kindle and as fragments of
dead tree

Super-Servile Sunday

O sink not down to that corrosive couch,

Docile before the Orwellian screen
That regulates the lives of the servile,
Dictating dress and drink, demeanor, dreams;
Declare your independence from the sludge
Of vague obedientiaries who drowse
Away their empty lives in submission
To harsh, diagonal inches of rule,
Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped,
While costumed in their masters’ liveries,
And feeling little while thinking even less,
The very model of the State’s non-men,
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded in cosmic cattle chutes,
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness.

But you, O you, be not of them, but be

A wanderer in the moonlight, one known
To God and to His holy solitude.