THE SUBTLE SHIFT
Where comes the rift, the subtle shift of Ideals?
In process, execution, and impetus, what was once One's tenant
is now Another's appeal.
There was, once, an Umbrella, a Headline, an Over-view:
Democrats were blue collar, Republicans were white,
but now, it seems all of that has skewed.
The inter-relation of the Information Age has allowed
force, and of course, it's attendant rage.
But no one can solve anything, let alone become involved,
by simply typing a sentence onto a page.
The couching whispers of deals made, laid, or gone wrong,
are now the speak of the affected, underneath.
What is dealt with, in essentuality, is ephemeral,
the Truth, so hidden and used, is becoming unleashed.
But what Was is no solution either.
It's only awareness, come to light.
What does one do for longevity, or integrity,
without knowing it has to grow, and not by a fight?
The adjectives are flowing, barbed, and vicious.
He said/She said is just more conundrum stalemate rage.
When underneath, the underpinnings of society
are only asking for the fair share that they create.
There is no Top, without a Bottom.
There is no Lording Over without something underneath to scoff.
You cannot be, or even seem, to be above anything
without acknowledgement of what holds you there, aloft.
Busy-ness instead of business has become usual.
Business as unusual is becoming inured.
So commonplace, looked at, askance, oh that again;
until it bursts, and people must shout to even be heard.
Callousness is the norm, not the wayside,
oh, another murder, robbery, assault; the numbers grow.
Facts and fiction are blurred by the blather of sensation,
leaving Truth floundering, underneath the Tide's flow.
But the Umbrella-View too, has shifted.
Dems want tax adjustments Top down, to protect their hoard.
While Republicans have moved toward the underpinnings,
realizing Labor's share isn't granted, and can no longer be ignored.
Everything grows from the bottom to the top,
from the seed, to the flower, to the fruit.
And the fruit will rot if the seed beneath
is not fed, and nourished, from it's root.
Futures are being built upon futures;
money's bet on how much money might be made.
But it's all ephemeral, and to enforce it,
you have to skew how the rules are played.
Tech is an old adjective itself, meaning 'really,'
or 'mechanically,' or 'it ought to be So.'
But technically speaking, it's just another Umbrella,
an Ideal, but with allowances for life to allow growth.
You cannot grow Technology, nor can you eat it;
you might try to export it, but then it's stolen, off the ether.
So, it's a very hard thing to keep propriety over,
and the courts are jammed with battles to declare leaders.
Anti-Trust itself has come to a crossroad;
the very word's become a self-fulfilling prophesy.
As if having Trust in the Anti
is justification of defiance of interdependency.
Planned obsolescence, newer, faster, better
has been the wheel to keep churning out the same.
Cheap imports from a society that's exploding,
why they're known for raping Rhinos for fertility needs not be explained.
while fertility comes from raping Rhinos
is one of their claims to fame.
people seek immortality by ignoring being mortal,
by not seeing above, nor underneath.
the air is as free as the ocean,
if we can't see it, it in turn, must not see We.
who knows what grows in the other elements
beside the Us that takes it to drink, and breathe.
if you want to know, just watch the fish, and the birds;
their behavior likens to all, begin to end, in entropy.
There is only so much Taking, without also Giving;
to continue, flourish and replenish takes forethought.
To live in a way that lies beyond a grave
is a Beginning, not an Ending, so often fought.
We don't always know where Collusions are started,
but where they lead is what is coming to be known.
If only we could return Earth's cushioning layers,
the shale, coal, gas and waters that are our Keep,
the liquids and solids that are our Composite,
for the sake of raping them, burned off in quick release.
As if Life is never-ending, the
Wellspring never used up.
But now, we explore Space, another universe to abhor,
as ours is polluted enough.
By penetrating the cushioning layers of Earth we usurped,
what will we have furthered of Life?
The Great Reclamation, Txgiving 2017
clear Cruzer thumb - file mp3's,
Did I write this?! When?
Manifesto, of my Intentions, any way 'round.
Graphic: "Blue Plate Special", Original, Watercolor, by Tam Peterson. One of my prized icons I have have begun tussling with.
I don't know how to dispose of a four thousand dollar painting, either. Work around it, because it's still around.
Time comes, but then - that's all it ever does.