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The World Wide WebAll this information at our fingertips
Yet we choose to look at cats?
Freedom to voice our every thought
A privilege left unchecked
A steaming pit of tricks and trolls
Accessories now abused

Drowning in the vanity
And self obsessed depravity
Our lives uploaded; digitalised
Essence poured upon the screen

Entitled to an opinion
Set up for a response
Like throwing a lump of meat
To a pack of wild dogs

“Ten years ago, these people would not be allowed crayons,
Let alone use of the internet”
Suicide KillersHatred filtered through the hiss of steam
Ears deafened from the high-pitched scream
Agony streams liquid fire from the sky
A guided missile in a blood-stained eye
Death dances lightly with eerie grace
Tap-dancing over each upturned face
Fools impaled on blood-soaked rods
All in the name of their so-called Gods
And the devil laughs in endless glee
At the glorious stupidity of humanity
Morei.
my phone might be
already smarter
than I am -
"What do you think, Siri?"
"I agree."
but that doesn't mean
that I don't need
the newest one
(it's not just a phone
it's a lifestyle)
ii.
Life is for using.
Use it as much
as you can.
iii.
they need more
than can be given
it's addictive
look at us -
we have become
something impossible
to satisfy
iv.
(I am always hungry)
(sorry)
v.
maybe we already
have too much
too much money
too much glitter
too much
we don't need
vi.
We put the needle
to society's veins -
but still it's getting worse,
so we keep raising
the dose.
vii.
we are wasting
worlds
and ourselves -
need more worlds
need more selves
need  m  m  m    m    o    r    e
CollapseWe stepped into Dystopia Land,
that midnight place
one bright September morning -
no doubt it was already coming,
yes, already we were on the brink,
but still,
do you remember that day
the lumbering dragon awoke,
twisted by the falling rubble
and fire,
symbols of what we were
pancaked into smithereens.

I remember,
I remember
the dust of our dreams,
tasting of fear,
the lost looking for those
they would never find again,
and we tasted the dust
of our perceived vulnerability,
discovering
that we too were open
to the dragon's bite.

For some, the dust
was opportunity -
looking with grim satisfaction
as the dust drenched the fleeing figure
of
Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship

Her Lady Lordship
Fabu-ravishing temptress of the night
And Zena-esque Amazon by day
Enthroned and entombed eternally in crowds
Flowers, flour, children, chipmunks
All of it and none of it too.

She doesn't rest
E'er the wind blows and the heart finds something fond
Or the tempest throws a fit and a home
beneath waves of blue blood

Tar-poison ichor lymph
Shouting, fiery, "keep away!"; it does little
to sway the eight-legged creeping bloats
Tick-lodgers

Mutants
Half termite too are they, filthy little buggers
And part black mold as they exhale death and misery
What's worse, they breed rabidly

Never since Oedi
All That GlittersHeart etched in stone
fickle beauty
shallow symbol of love
BlindAny pure ideology realized

is a disaster

Like all things in reality that are successful

they are a mix of ideas

shared offerings

Crowing about the failure of Communism

we refuse to see the horror

that is unfettered Capitalism
HandsI gave my hands to a palm reader,
and she saw through winged glasses,
through the etching of lines like hairs
like dancing spider's footsteps on my palms
what caused the feathering in the crossroads
of my heart line, and the ever present hangnails
parasitic on my skin.

She saw them soften in sinks, soap and hot water,
the persistent blue smudge beneath the third finger's
joint, the freckles painting me: Irish Spanish
Gypsy and yet somehow still English rose,
the lone marriage line telling how I'll only love once
(and myself thinking once quite optimistic,
with my innate selfishness) and all the while

seeing the way that, sometimes, my hand
Privacy Is DeadThere is no such thing as a secret
Privacy is a right no one can now obtain
Through acts of selfish maniacal arrogance
They used tragedies and deaths to restrain

Those in society who dare speak out
Are threatened mocked and scorned
While the very things we take in
Become the foot-piece of voices adorned

In power and vanity with our lives
Being the games they twist and claim
So when the darkness clouds come in
No one can speak out and denounce the name

Of the darkness rising higher
Choking the life out of you
Feckless in it's power and vice
It is the face of everything you do

Deepening and darkening they spy
Upon us as we go about our mer
Layer CakePeeling back pieces of history to find the boy I used to be…
So much has changed, but I feel the same.

I seek sanctuary in the imagination of the man I have become.

But it all feels empty and numb.
I scour the night, eyes unadjusted and pupil’s enflamed.
I can feel my blood as it flows, each pulse blackening my vision
each thump deepening, burrowing deeper into my chest.
Headrush, blocking out all thoughts that irrationally flood my mind.
So many...
Too many, so that I keep drawing a blank.
Disconnected from my own reality.

… Who is this man that lacks conviction and desire.
Where is the confidence that could stare thro
in the absence of a protesta piss-warm week-end
and the flock of quasi-contrarians
ambles from square to square,
girls, visionaries -
sundae heated ground/wading through the excrement
and scrubbing pigeon droppings from
white hair. (nothing
happens)

absurdist conceptions
surface and resurface and
subside again,
like a herd of
curious seals they
flash their latex muzzles.

when they scatter,
crowds will scatter too,
skewered in the comfort of the wheel of history,
(branded with a fried-black hole that is called
confidence
and "you can't fight distrust")
used to being used.

so we laugh
we laugh as we're being led to another bloody golgotha

but it lies so far
Freeverse #2Distant hands reach out,
And grab unsuspecting victims.
Entombing them in a veil of mist,
And mysticism, enhanced
By the internal void ever
Present in the collective heart
Of Humanity.

As hands grope, explore and touch,
Their unfortunate prey finds itself
Shivering in selfish delight, bottom lip
Clenched not by forced desire
But by a desperate longing
For a feeling; to be wanted
And lusted after.

And so the veil loses its mysticism,
Its mist and its ‘distant hands;’ for
They are replaced by a lover’s touch,
A kind whisper in your ear and a selfless
Friend whom will always be there for you.
A friend who will never let
Glass: A Criticism of SocietySome laughing and some crying
Born living and leave dying
The pale reflection on a dusty window pane
Of a cluttered damp room
By the light of the moon:
Possessed by misery's refrain

Some perceive life as an amber glass that's filled
Its golden ichor bustles all the way up to the brim
While others see it watered, weakened, and distilled
To inject their auburn glass with sin

And to sit at the throne created by conceit
The shattered glass, the rusted iron,
Corroded, cracked: ruined concrete
And as you sit upon that sullen throne,
You ponder: "Is my consciousness alone?"
Free to roam the universe
But no script nor written verse
Will ever offe
youI gave myself away
you didn't ask for my innocence
but took it freely
WishShe had more freckles on her hands
then there were stars in the sky.
Her eyes were like broken glass
colored green by a sharpie.
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

The light in her eyes was distant
and beautiful like the moon’s.
When she spoke her words curled
around her face like smoke.
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

She forever smelled like cinnamon
and lost time.
Her smile was soft,
but as ferocious as a lion’s
When I saw her I knew I loved her,
but she was not capable of loving me.

My heart did break.
It shattered, when it slipped from her han
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©2009-2013 ~bentonAsylum
Category: Literature / Poetry / Sociopolitical / Free Verse

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February 6, 2009
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