Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Two Poems: Waves, and Putrefaction

Waves

 

Trouble comes at you in waves

Crashing against you relentlessly

 

Demands and criticisms

Dangers and needs and insufficiencies

Conflict and danger and worry

 

These waves are eternal

They never stop coming

 

And like stones on the seashore

these waves can shape you

wear you down

wash you away

 

Some days are storms

the waves hit you like blows--

Other days are placid

and you feel nothing but a caress.

 

What can you do?

You can't stop trouble from coming

any more than the rock can stop the sea.

But just like the rock

you can stand strong

with eternal patience

and understanding.

 

* * *


Putrefaction

 

There was a time when I saw a real problem with rock and roll--

Rock and roll, and beer, and TV,

and everything I really liked basically--

 

Because I saw them and all the other

amusements and entertainments that make life tolerable

as blocking real progress--

 

Anything that lets the proletariat blow off steam

prevents the steam from building up and rupturing a broken system.

 

Because who needs to concern themselves

with throwing off the yoke of the oppressors

if you can get drunk and dance to good music

and if you don't meet a girl or a boy or whoever you like

there will always be some TV to keep you company--

 

Marx said religion was the opiate of the masses--

true for his time perhaps, although too narrow.

A regime that represses everything will always fall sooner or later

But an oppressive system that allows religion

and beer and porn and rock and roll and everything else

is very difficult to overthrow because

there is so much to distract the oppressed from the oppression--

 

and it's so hard to focus on the putrefaction of the system

and overwhelming injustice and inequity and corruption

when your sports team is in the playoffs

and there's a new Thor movie coming soon

and weed is legal and beer is in the grocery stores--

 

Who could rebel under such a system?

Consumer culture keeps us as happy little victims.

 

Billionaires laugh

while we drink and dance and blow off our steam.

 

* * *