What do you expect

What do you expect

At a time of doing less

And wanting more.

We play with power,

Use imagination

To create a new world order,

Just in time for Christmas,

Treat life

As a game station,

Post ourselves

In return envelopes,

Sky write memos

In the clouds

Fill the hollows

Of our egos

With cartoon smiles,

And air miles.

Amass a community

Of strangers as friends,

Re-unite at a key stroke.

Sit alone together

In a web of self delusion,

Supreme in our knowledge

Of individual difference,

As evidence of civilised glory.

We peddle stories,

Half truths and lies.

Other loves, different lives,

With no need

To smell the fear,

Taste spilled blood.

And in either wilful

Or blissful ignorance

Dislocate

The meaning of irony,

Judge our own freedom

To experience life

As less than we deserve.

The bloated body politic

Decomposing in tears

The weeping

Of the dispossessed.

The prognosis,

A necrosis

That threatens to end

The beauty

Of our postcard world.

Paradise is lost

By default

Every time we deny

The unpalatable drone of truth,

Muffle the explosion

Of loud words,

Mute the questioning voice,

Blink as children die,

And turn our minds

To other things,

Re-connect to

Complex games of falsehood

That promote the belief

We can all kill,

Experience the thrill,

Without the need

To taste the harsh reality,

Of warm blood.