When we play the game of oppression,
the arrangement dictates
that we stop producing Aliveness
inside ourselves.
*
So we begin
to harvest the aliveness of others
to fuel us.
This derangement
drives us forward,
system and individual.
Ravenous,
crazed with hunger,
we rip out the hearts of the living
and barely savor them
before we are wrenched forward
by hunger once again.
*
We salivate over
the Aliveness that is the most
young
fresh and
tender.
But we will rip the organs
out of any Aliveness
that crosses our path when we are hungry,
and we are always hungry.
*
We are not monsters.
Merely structure trying to live forever.
Which is monstrous,
moving towards grotesque.
We are out of sync
with life on this planet
which has a balance of structure and Aliveness
called cycles -
dying and rebirth,
Spring and Winter.
Regenerativity
built into the system.
*
But oppression demands an endless spring.
*
We pit ourselves against life,
our exceptionalism granting us hope
that we can win the fight.
We are not monsters.
But we catch the children
with our cameras
and drink their youth
with a gaze
that we cannot deny
looks vampiristic.
We feed off them
until they make their way
from delicious youth
to rehab,
where they become tired-looking
like us.
We savor the last drops
of their hope and determination
before turning our eyes to the next crop
of children at our trough.
*
Capitalism ensures that
we do not value anything
we can create for free.
We only value
what has been imbued with scarcity
by the game.
So we hunt,
and steal,
and ride the waves of euphoria
that wear off after lunch…
We are so tired…
*
In our famished daze
we never notice
that we
are alive.
*
We are actors in a play of zombification.
We have been playing so long,
we identify with the role.
We have forgotten we are not really dead.
From my yet unpublished book of poetry, Eat Your Trauma.
Photo credit Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash
That was simply beautiful & poignant. Thank you for sharing.