Consequences of Complacence

I come from a land ravaged by suburbia

and pillaged by consumerism.

Savage businessmen wielding briefcases bursting with misery—

documents and papers detailing the death of society,

the rise of tyranny and bureaucracy,
the reign of money.

The fame of capitalism reeks of concrete and iron,
chemical cleansers and emporiums of oil drums.

Industrial war guns beat the rhythm of the new society,
give the view of this despondency,
this chaotic wreck of a failed experiment
somehow managing
to perpetuate itself,

still able to infiltrate ourselves and be absorbed

by that impetuous sponge,
that inherently bilious,
developed ambitious
mass of empiricism,
reasoning imperialism as logical and somehow making capitalism


dressing the able in suits,
putting the apes in cages for entertainment on weekends when their boss says,
“Take the day off.”

The suits rip their identity asunder and indulge at their pillaged lands as a vacation

just to go back on Monday and repeat the process.

An assemblage of machine gears and levers automate the system,

driven by goals and future-mindedness,

unconscious sustainment of egoism,
despite the conflict,

regardless of intuitive compulsion reasoned as abhorrent by specialized experts.

I without me is revolt.

‘Tis the purity gleaming through prisms producing vast vibrancy—

breathtaking beauty leaves me lightheaded,
discordant with this SHIT propagated by elected leaders,
collective breeders of ideas and identities,
destroyers of loving societies.

An intoxicating smog fills our lungs with stable satisfaction,
or at least adequate apathy to leave us complacent,

but carrying the catarrh,

coughing up blood and tar,
emitting exhaust like a diesel truck.

Poisoned by our own action, a different course must discernibly be followed,
perhaps no course at all, but the presence of just one essence:

-Ryan K. Fuller

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