Motoring

By Cliff Lake

 

Motoring

 

Behind the flashing colors,

Beneath the trumpets and drums,

Working the players and the played,

The machine groans on.

Oiled with coin and blood,

Fired by greed,

Powered by disdain and lust,

It eats innocence,

It shits pain.

Louder the production screams

To cover the clank and clang

Of an apparatus too ancient to run

And too pervasive to quit.

An engine operated by monstrous egos

Convinced of their right to indulge

Or engulf

Or intake

Whenever desired

Whenever decreed.

Diseased, decadent, depraved,

Skeletal remainders of humanity,

Or fattened and greased,

They maneuver their agents with promises,

Offering tastes of the debasements

That are reserved for themselves in full.

Still the mechanism toils on

A thing self-serving,

Operating now only to continue operating,

Producing labor, filth, heartache,

And the degradation of all species.

A machination that can only result in

The obsolescence of the species that birthed it.

It is its own entropy,

Operating in panic mode,

Until it,

And all that serve it,

Can operate no more.

Only then will we find peace…

And the quiet of a world gone dead.

We should be so lucky…

 

Cliff Lake 5/25/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

Location: Dalton, MA, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One Thousand Horsemen

By Cliff Lake
  One Thousand Horsemen   The call of an ally, A friend of old: “We ask your aid! Will you be bold?”   “Ancient terrors, Assail once more! Will you honor The oaths we swore?”   One thousand horsemen answer the call,   One thousand horsemen riding tall. One thousand horsemen, they prepare. One thousand horsemen, forth they fare.   “We have no word, Are we not heard? Are we forgot? Do you come not?”   “The terror hails, Our people quail! We are beset, Will you come yet?”   One thousand horsemen upon the hill, One thousand horsemen, duty they fill. One thousand horsemen make the climb. One thousand horsemen, are they in time?   “What do we hear? Is succor near? Have you arrived? Will we survive?”   “Hail faithful friend! Fear not an end! Our hope has come, Sound the war drum!”   One thousand horsemen, banners raised! One thousand horsemen, unafraid! ...
Read more

The Edge

By Cliff Lake
  The Edge   Out on the edge… This is where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyrigh...
Read more

Used Up 'n Dried Up

By Cliff Lake
  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path t...
Read more