Poetry-Thing Thursday: Embodiment

If only we’d known,
what freedom would bring,
we might have stopped it,
before we’d sing,
of such beauties and reverie.
that have been nothing but lies,
brave and free? Unlikely.

Here, it is all for the highest bidder,
if in politics or power.
Everything else,
the lowest.
Anyone that disagrees,
called heretics, traitors.
For money’s the master,
in this brave new world.
While Orwell’s spinning corpse,
nears perpetual-motion disaster.

Society may have order,
but it is flawed at its core.
Temporary-cure for permanent chaos,
when knowledge is a bore.
A few years from now,
centuries, millenia,
people will watch the collapse
all asking, “how?”

The truth is,
it’s our fault.
Here and now.
We are as children,
no adult around.
We whimper,
whine, stray,
claiming we can hold things dear,
our hands to our ears.

What bullshit.
We are the embodiment,
of our own worst fears.

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