21st Century Misery: An Original Poem by Keith Ferrera

21st Century Misery

I've been eating shit so long I think it taste good.

Pain is my Muse.

Angst is my Muse.

Revolution is my Muse.

Pain as a Muse is only self-serving.

To bring it out of oneself, to express it,

whether in art or speech or action,

is destructive.

It is boring, hurtful, provocative.

Provocative, but always misjudged.

For width and breadth, its depth.

It's depth is misunderstood by its observer.

Never as important as it is to the pained.

Relating to it is not understanding,

but just a brush of the surface.

Nothing grows from this relation.

Night Sun illuminates

the silent blanket of hush

that rest, quietly, but never sleeps.

Just breathes softly, with eyes mostly closed.

Moon reflects the filtered Sun's rays.

As small slit of orb suspended

in fluid reflects moon rays

on surface of Moorish face of old.

Of Africa, Arabia, of Spain

lost in the New World, somewhere,

North of Cuba, east of Aztec,

South of new Amsterdam.

Somewhere beyond

the Mound Builders of the Mississippi,

the cornered and corrupted Cherokee,

the pious pilgrims.

Kidnapped and genocided children of Mother Africa!!!

Somewhere beyond

and presently in suffocating world,

from depleting lungs of Earth,

the Amazon and Ecuador.

Shell and Texaco,

Petrol Canada and Maxus,

gutting forested earth

and Rain Home to Pure People.

Capitalist vampires

gouging holes in Virgin Mother.

Using their host for everything

for a mere 13 days of consumerism.

Buying people off with Ubiquitous God

that never spoke to them.

Catholic God of control,

making him up as you go along.

Yes and somewhere

before the asteroid of 2017

or the Nuclear/Chemical/Biological/Mental Soul War

of coming days, months, maybe tomorrow.

Unprecedented Power,

Gain, Wealth,

Stupidity,

of 21^st Century Misery.

But right now, though,

this very moment...

Soft night,

wisping clouds,

broken up,

and just haunting the blue-black sky.

Leaving hardly an impression,

but just as much as to notice how

nearly stark naked the sky in starless light

of eerie, but calm moonlight.

High above high tree tops,

still giving away nothing.

Just waiting...

Like me, ...Just waiting...

                           

- Written By 'Siva de Ferrera [a.k.a. Keith Ferrera]

Copyright © 2020 'Siva de Ferrera (a.k.a. Keith Ferrera)

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