Everest Of Dis-Belief

No mountain was ever scaled in a day. Yet the time scale is now.

EVEREST OF DIS-BELIEF

The street light,
Filters through the bushes,
And I can see the water droplets,
Glistening like fairy lights,
As the wind tickles the trees,
For I sense a new breeze.

The giant is asleep,
For it thinks it is small,
Yet the wind of discontent will
become a hurricane,
It will blow down the old structures,
For these are ancient beliefs,
That upholds the archaic and rigid,
For in the wake of the storm,
Who is left wanting?
Who no longer wants what is left?
For the small awaken to what is right,
Stagnant waters become a cesspool,
And all must come together,
To unblock natural flows.

For the house is in disorder,
Addiction is the new greed,
For do we have the power to let go
of our dependency,
For we are oiling the squeaky wheel,
When the wheels are falling off,
For the problem is nuts and bolts,
It doesn’t need more oil,
It is the substance that holds together the parts,
The momentum is in the spaces we cannot see,
For perpetual motion is the ocean of ideas,
It is a rhythm that is slow in the start,
But once it is going the weight of public opinion is unstoppable,
And suspension gives rise to a new generation,
With renewable energy.

So what is the problem with the world?
The world has no problem,
It is people that are committing slow suicide,
Why are the people committing suicide?
For they have lost the will to live,
For to live means to work to survive,
To survive means to do another’s bidding,
One is motivated by fear not inspiration,
One is in it for the love of money not life,
So life is traded as a commodity,
It is a stock exchange,
It is a pattern not a rhythm,
It is predictable not a bio-rhythm explored,
It is serious and responsible,
Yet it is impossible to have any fun,
For making money is serious business,
The corporate world is professional,
The professional world at its core is a template,
For the system is a machine on hourly rates,
And you are an input into production,
And so the factory hen is in a prison,
It is no longer free to be a chicken,
It is a laying hen getting chicken feed,
Not a wild bird free to follow its instinct,
But enslaved by a human machine,
Destined for slaughter,
Even when it loses its head it still thinks it is alive.

The client state is now a colony,
Which comes first the chicken or the egg?
Its leaders are fooled for equality is a misnomer for there are no kissing cousins,
The alliance is liberated by consent,
For the crime is a prefabrication,
For self interest exposes national interest,
Yet there is no interest rated in never ending war,
Even the industrial-military complex cannot sell to a world in nuclear winter.

Tabloids print the stories you want to read,
For entertainment and drama amuse the ghost in the machine,
You pretend it doesn’t exist – yet it does,
An apparition a figment of the mind – so blind,
For conspicuous consumption is the conspiracy theory,
For one is addicted to the consumption function,
But this is merely filling the gaps,
In between the synapses there is no activity,
For to think one must consider,
To consider one must decide,
To choose one must take a stand,
To take a stand one must raise their voice,
To have a voice one participates,
To participate is to challenge power,
Truth to power always stands alone,
Yet it is in aloneness that one finds true power,
For truth is the mustard seed,
That moves mountains,
The magic mountain is the one you climb,
For you climb the Everest of your dis-belief,
The mist clears to expose the sky of possibilities.