He didn't start as a churl; war changed him.
First the deliberate breaking down grim
to build the soldier, then the battle hymns
and stark reality dismembered limbs
puppets pulled, shady malicious masters,
resource- and power-grab disasters.
Now after shell-shocked years he knows, he's heard
the robots in the sky are all fake birds.
The matrix has caught him, a pervasion
of pure propaganda mind invasion.
Still I take this occasion to assure
the birds are living beings, lovely, pure.
Their morning praise as dawn lightens the sky
is real. The false cages of beliefs fly
in the simple act of breathing, reaching
as our energetic source is teaching.
Inspired by: Shady, Occasion and Churl. And an actual conversation with a grizzled Vietnam War vet absolutely convinced that birds are not real; he tells me they all died in the '70s and were replaced by automatons. I give him a hymn of praise.
Featured image: Sandhill crane migration is a wild shindig high, high, high in the sky.
WordPress.com
No comments:
Post a Comment