Yet More Broverbs
|Rat looking through knothole|
When all the light has faded from the sky,
And all the sparkle from the children’s eyes,
Then in the darkness, one may mutter, “Why?”
And know the answers will be more of lies.
How many ways there are to make us slaves,
How few the paths that lead to liberty!
How quickly roads can slope towards defeat,
How long, how steep, the climb to victory!
The truth is seen, by those who care to see.
And having seen, we try to see again.
But in the fog of lies, we still may doubt,
And though we seek, our search is oft in vain.
We look for light, the hopeful light of dawn,
But all we see are meteors that streak.
And when the moon arises, then we bay,
And think this is the sun for which we seek.
Towards mirages, seen as heart’s desires,
We make our journeys, leaving that behind,
Whose waters slake the thirsts and quench the fires
That plague the body and inflame the mind.
Whenever man or deed or enterprise
Is magnified, a dwarfing, then expect.
Wherever you may hear the title, “great”,
There, you’ll find the loss of true respect.
Beware the "uplift" that can ruin our lives,
That forces us to do as others bid.
Let each be free to walk his chosen path,
And be, forever, of these lashings rid.
The stated aims are “noble”, yet you see
The worst of all that’s “vulgar” in the rush.
And so it’s been with all nobility.
The ones who climb, do this on those they crush.
Our schools are built as factories, in which
We train our children to be slaves – or sly.
So some will rise to be our masters, while
The rest will serve – and rarely question why.
We rob our children of their innocence.
We make them gallop, curb their dawdling ways.
We stupefy them with our clever games
And make a hell of all their dwindling days.
The schools reward the liars and the cheats.
They punish diligence and questioning.
And so we ready children for the road
That lies ahead, with gilt that's glittering.
The parents toil to buy the newest toys
For kids who work to shop for gizmos more.
And so it is – that many girls and boys
Are dumber now than those who went before.
It's cheaper, yes, to hire an immigrant
Who lacks his papers, or a child at school.
And so, "There's jobs." we say, "Go out and work!"
We call the jobless one "a lazy fool".
The horse that pulls may still be ridden on.
And so it is with all our working ones.
Their proper role was once to just produce,
But now, they buy – and so, the engine runs.
How elegant the setting on the table,
How heavenly, the servings on the plates!
But who dare look for all the sweat and gore
Of men who mined and beasts that met their fates?
How easily our virtues past are turned
To vices by our lords for power’s sake.
We do what we are told is right, but then
We realize it’s wrong – and our mistake.
But only rarely does this happen when
We still could act to free ourselves from chains.
It's only later, though it still is rare,
That wisdom comes – while servitude remains.
How easily our vices old are tapped,
As vices new are fashioned in their turn.
And so we are, by vice and virtue, trapped.
Our Neros fiddle, while our children burn.
How glorious, the castles built above!
For wealth and power, lords on high compete.
They dine on labor, even drink of love.
But all the workers taste is harsh defeat.
A man may see a boulder or a tree.
Another sees, in each of them, much more.
There’s sight – and that which reaches deep within
To see what is and what was there before.
We live in just the present instant, yet
We know our trails, as snails may know their slime.
And once or twice a lifetime, each may glimpse
What comes, by peering through the fence of time.
We chatter and we chatter till we die,
And yet, there is a silent one within.
It sees the truth as we pursue the lie,
And tries to warn us of the price of sin.
2014 March 12, Wed.
Brooklyn, New York