Sometimes, I become acutely aware
of my own indulgence.
Of my own intertia.
My own wilful apathy.
I blame my surroundings,
But I am the one who makes the choices.
I can declare the limits that abound them,
but if I refuse to look beyond
or properly consider them,
what’s the point?
That would make me a pious hypocrite.
The very thing I believe myself to be ‘railing against’.
Is my entire pratice of ‘calling out bullshit’
just deflection from my own egotism?
Am I merely going through the motions
of post-childhood rebellion?
Is this a quarter-life crisis?
Is this growing up?
Knowing everything is topsy-turvy,
but doing as little as possible?
Because I don’t trust everyone else,
not to totally fuck it up on a massive scale?
the human race,
has a terrible track record.
We fuck everything up.
This mindset terrifies the humanist in me.
But he’s a idealist fool anyway.
And, idealism seems tainted.
Sullied by career politicians.
Is all idealism for personal gain?
Is all politics?
Is all philosophy?
Is all art?
I grow weary
of the spectacle of humanity.
Which is all it seems to be.
A 2-dimensional performance.
A big cluster fuck facade.
covering something that used to be life.
But is now just mechanical
A reproductive process.
A big psychological Ford Factory.
Pumping out mindset mannequins.
I’m part of a generation
that chased post-modernity
Into our own psyches.
The result of which
Some contorted mash up of
Philip K Dick
Irreality and corporatism
For consumer freedoms
we all signed up for.
Where do we go?
Where can we go?
This was our last refuge.
We thought CCTV was bad.
There’s only so much info
a grainy image can show
We let Zuckerberg into our heads
To share videos of Pandas
When the Dolphins take over the earth
They teach their children of the Fall of Man
“This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang
But with Haramabe”