Common sense was never common, shared
in a manner; a compatriot meaning where unity
expressed itself: now the only sense is
the lowest denominator. The entropy of Babel,
the tower of the internet weaving lies and whatever’s
watered down to be palatable. To the greatest
number, the least wholeness of purpose or expression.
I want to celebrate joy, but I’m floating in a sea
of imbeciles; with my fate generally
in the hands of those whose fate is gleefully accepted,
gratefully acknowledged and utilized by none.
Prisoners wear a device, citizens buy the same; only
with names and numbers the difference. Officials
eavesdrop on everyone, even themselves. Nobody
knows how to speak or what to communicate:
they mouth the sounds of underwater creatures.
Glob, glub, geek. Anything meaningful is cheap,
insignificant since it belongs to everyone. They’re
all after all Shakespeares, Pasternaks, Emersons
sanctified by a missing grace, even the animals
mourn in their humanized faces where they’re
smarter than the human race in their own worlds. My
cat is Einstein next to the play in Congress or Parliament.
She walks, she talks in a way, the world’s her litterbox.
We spread what’s civilized across the globe,
abandoning integrity; and everybody comes to steal
the share they know is theirs from too real example.
There may be rooms for rent on the moon, but even
the emptinesses here are subsumed in vacancy. Unless
everything changes soon we won’t even be able to tell this truth.
- from THE POETRY HOTEL, 102 pages, $12.99
- click on the above photo to get a book
These poems are advertisements for the Books
all my books on sale – http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM
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<–Check this out: Poetry & How It Gets That Way – updated!
also posted – https://ohcanaduh.wordpress.com/2017/01/29/the-herald-2/