mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
This is a re-post with modifications.
Super-Servile Sunday
O sink not down into that corrosive couch
Docile before the Orwellian screen
That regulates the lives of the servile
Dictating dress, demeanor, drink, and 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 knee-pants guys
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded through cosmic cattle chutes
Yammering in dim, noisy nothingness
But you –
But you, O you, be not of them, but choose
To be a wanderer in the moonlight
Alone in manly dignity
(The allusions to Milton, Shakespeare, and Keats are deliberate)
No comments:
Post a Comment