Kinds of Our Time

Wandering souls on a moving landscape of expectation
juxtaposed against a sea of self entitlement and disbelief;
held accounted for by the unicorned armies that slave tirelessly in the name of an ideal of their own creation
stopping only to notice the flaws of others;
building fruitless waves of anger and depression;
self medicated and blatantly ignored through legal and illegal drugs of their choosing while pondering what is and what should have been and
ceding nothing to no one while laying unadmittant in the face of defeat.
An ideal fabricated by the drones of a former world compares ashes to dust;
pushing its agendas through endless streams of belittlement and criticism;
complementing others for conformity while demeaning any crumb that falls from the loaf
with no effort to understand or learn;
judging in order to escape the blinding reality that circles them;
a reality pleading the chance to be heard to a deafening crowd of uncompromise
which impedes the progress of the motivated by feasting upon its dreams of disillusioned grandeur;
regressing and progressing towards the inevitable future of unapproved success;
replacing morality through the herding of a monocultural revolution;
which wins the war on a platform of unsustainability and degradation
of what once held some semblance of meaning
of which the souls and armies agreed upon.

When will it end?
This tedious jockeying for position
to be the forerunner in the race towards uniformity;
fueled by fires of refusal and disbelief;
questioned only by those of uncontrollable humanity
whose will and motivation are harvested for others’ grain and
replanted in distant lands with the hope a weed would overtake a garden.

Using routine to debilitate creativity;
impervious to the strains that would threaten its plan;
protected by illogical tradition and majority created fact that penetrates so deep
that we can feel it in our stomachs while watching the hope drain through our toes;
chasing the will that’s fading into an unreachable purgatory;
pointedly placed next to a path of apathy;
the secret weapon of relentless armies drudges on,
intent on reforming someone’s circle into their square.

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Comments
5 Responses to “Kinds of Our Time”
  1. Steve K says:

    I got lost in a sea of pronouns…is your frustration with the system, an ideal, or a people group?

    • kluckmeister says:

      I don’t think there’s one single frustration in this piece. Rather than explaining the cause of the frustration I think this is more pure. It is just… frustration.

  2. Moe says:

    feeling forced to conform or trying not to?

  3. Kluck my man, where have you been? Thought you’d checked out of the blog game – good to see you’re back.

  4. Hanson says:

    Hey K. Good to see you. I was just watching an ITunes TV show about one of us living with a family of them for 30 days.
    It made me mad too.

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