System’s Precipice


Sitting on the edge of this —

A weathered, stronghold, precipice

And seven billion hearts are racing.

‘Cause time marches forth

Stringing masses in its girth

While History’s retracing,

The patterns of its lacing..

And with eyes to the future

Piercing cosmic binding sutures

We want for nothing more,

Than to be the paramour-

Of the energy that binds us

Finds in us a singing chorus

Of nuanced, – clarity-

Elemental, parity

Bridging former insularities;

Evolve from volatile polarities.

Together, we are one.

But today we are undone…

Through dictates of a system

-We barely can resist ’em

‘Cause they sell to us the extracts

of  life in tiny, handy transacts.

Filtered, packaged, commoditized.

Basic functions incentivized

By a semblance of a pulse

Machiavellian wrought impulse

Product “Happiness” premieres,

Like spice or slave of yesteryear

The masses’ acquisition

Without rational cognition

-Or moral inhibition-

We waste away this space

Caught up in a downward race..

To the bottom of the spiral

Trapped ’cause voracity is viral

Monetary blood runs through us

This infection’s gotten to us

Penetrating the stronghold

Society has been cuckold

By the temptress, glutton ways

Injected into wanton veins.

Marginalize the remedy,

The implication of a trinity

It takes two to make three

Life born of chemistry

But beyond that there is more

In the language of our lore

To paint pictures of a war

set in labyrinths of our core

Gears clicking into place

Oiled with a pungent base

We have become mechanical

Cogs in the new tyrannical

Nature of this contract

That we’ve made with worldly contact

Exploiting all the tensions

Politics of apprehension

Drive manipulation

And absolute damnation

Of an ecosystem

Too slow for Human rhythm

Beating to the pace

of this advancing, talking race

That fights to be king

Playing left and right wing.


But the system has been rigged;

The position, a mere gig

So it’s time for revolution

All the masses see pollution

Choking on the fumes

of discrete backrooms

That make decisions by incentive

And to the people, inattentive

But the people see

Beyond distracting bourgeoisie

And a million voices sing:

Together, we will bring

Love to this precipice.

Together, we are more than this.


Together, we are one.



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