Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Poem: Holding onto Selves

What're you to me, me to you?
In the dissonance, a dataset is misplaced. 

A parched esophagus in the liquid 
refreshment aisle: plethora of decisions.

Uncontaminated H2O will suffice.
Self-collection devices confiscated.

Per capita, we're bureaucratic chattel.

Fines issued by insolent governments
intent on auctioning our inheritance. 

Questions mar one courageous enough - 
ask why - get an iron boot to the throat.

Protest? Mask. Protesting veils? Unmask.
What're they to us, us to them?

Per capita, we're bureaucratic chattel.

Slowly, time brings the wellspring dews
the news of radically progressive changes.

Daily, the collective acts on the system,
compliant or not, as each deems right.

They are us. We are them. Thus, they and
we are everything to each other. See us?