Poem

(untitled)

Reflecting upon the reality

of suicide nets

and all the implications:

where a person can't take

making phones all day anymore

and tries to throw themselves out a window;

how their government

allow corporations

to treat its people

like that;

how its corporations

are tied to our corporations,

and how many of the people on these boards

are former members of government;

and if we allow this much longer,

the inevitable is how our grandchildren

will come to know suicide nets.

The agenda has become one

behind the media people

presenting it as diverse and free,

a silence of silence

hanging in the air ever

since Jack Johnson sang his song

asking where all the good people gone.

A decade on since and now we have proof

in the decimation of history and culture,

and all the clay relics from the beginning;

where the promise of unlimited access

to information electronically, 

has now been corralled into a few choices

offered by a few CEOs.

The inevitable is how grandchildren

will come to know suicide nets,

where life is a spread sheet,

so unbearable

certain spirits

cannot abide

its bathos.