Do I hear Happiness in there#!?firstcycle

Minimum requirement for life pinched off

up the mountain blindly climbing
Receiving bread crumbs in thankless blood, sweat and tears

Minimum wage slapped the hand that feeds fast food bellies

to vote for more struggle in martyred justification

Holding your bladder in frozen smile lined up for the next task

Holy glory in overtime saving complaints to look good to the almighty

Dragging hollow bones to the time clock grumbling undigested cornflakes in the gut

Minimum expectation weaved and mined in dungeons our grandfather’s built

Speeding up the hamster wheel to trick reality into smelling plastic pansies

Walls closing in, hung with color pictures of conversational oasis

The gall I shame you to insist your feet soak in the tub to break blisters on the concrete floor

Retro fit the golden coffin nobly entitled to work ethic blue collar pride

Hyenas wander the ledges keeping out spiders gated throughout cookie cutter houses

Minimum effort in consequence of a bad attitude sourced from intuition locked in a closet

Small business taxing mummies to hold up its dream spiking the punch in drowsy baby cries

Shining the laser light towards the fancy key to take charge of the herd

Dissolving hope to soul death lost in the kinetic bubbling up of once upon a time

Fuzzy voices praising the potential of all you can be

Tasting the fire of sweet satisfaction doused in briny swampland catching fish through the tips of ragged fingertips

Ripping out the core of self-deprecating convenience making master rich patting obedience on the back

Done when the floor invites us to rest our head that tumbled the body off the bed barely capable to press the palms together forming an interception that shifts another day gone by in a new dimension

Inviting mass productivity to shake the stage and force a void in business as usual

Picket fence fallen on yellow grass blown to the wind with parched earth settled delicately on the fine leather seats in the weekend convertible un-garaged for the summer

Indentured servitude building your crystal castle at two shakes of a lambs tail and the promise of cocktails at the end of the day

Pencil skirt and Windsor knot parading powerhouse wisdom locked in uniformity to convince

the pocketbook that the ladder will appear in a smoke of praise gathered in exhaust fumes

No fight left to go up against a lineage of capital industry embedded in nature and driven by the invisible ghost possessed by us all

Shedding layers of self-esteem broken up by ambition to trophy attractions and love not of character but of status and steadiness

A club of masters that haze a generation on the backs of peasants and peacemakers with false compassion to the plight of the weak, lazy and loyal donkeys that tread through the canyon trails wishing for nothing less than unclaimed significance.

Loyal soldiers content to wear the badge that blood made sacred and suits made legal

Weary on my brother pulling his weight to hold the family together rocking the baby to sleep

Wonder more dear Mother watching the children play in the field of buttercups

Resting to dig deeper with the soul seekers blessing the wanderers escaping in patience and

giving new earth in simple satisfaction to  us all.

A paradise lost upon its victims and set behind a backdrop of revolution charmed in the book of history maybe to repeat and comfortable to not.

 

 

 

6 thoughts on “Do I hear Happiness in there#!?firstcycle

  1. Pingback: Leahjoy Pearson’s latest work | Kamarupa Wheatbelt

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