Fatigue is subjective,
And linked to my want,
Or will to be bothered to think on that day.
And tiredness is a collective,
Of thoughts and actions.
And lack of patience when dealing with people.
You see I’m vexed,
Allegedly, with the small stuff that I do sweat.
Or rather the real drama on my periphery.
And my apparent mental lethargy,
Impacts little on the passion in my heart,
And I have to let you in, this all-consuming justice?
Society’s dumbing drains me,
Can I cryo for a century with my energy,
Or am I to be eaten in this era?
Ignorance is now king, it’s cool, selling air time with ease,
It pollutes the air with barely a protest,
And yes, we are we truly all sleep walking into true heart-cracking oppression.
It’s exhausting keeping up with offensiveness, be first get it out there, facts don’t matter.
The political correctness of a subjective society is the benchmark,
Or perhaps maybe this is just a small cut from a beautiful being?
So we perform the public caesarean,
The neat little scar, barely noticeable, to see a new life,
And yet this renaissance should be a reconnaissance .
To see how far we can push the boat,
Straight into the flames.
Or do we all think that division will make us whole?
Rip it apart and expose the innards to search for perfection.
We cannot handle what we will uncover.
Can we not just accept the beauty of differences and colour?
We search for empathy and love and acceptance,
Yet accusations of cultural appropriation, which when not contextualised,
Is an abomination, an attack on my love for my fellow species,
Renders me guilty of embracing beauty.
Have we all had a societal disembowelment,
A dismembering of feelings,
A decapitation of our unity.
Or is hanging, drawing and quartering, what has taken millennia to refine, the only 3 courses on offer?
© PEDRO-BATPOET 2018