Tuesday, February 19

It Drives

American Capitalism

It drives so much, so much
work hard and clutch.
We try so hard, and
Die full of lard.
But there’s a beauty in this crime
Because the bugs that eat our fattened bodies
Deserve to be super-sized,
They are the circle of life.
We’re just living to the full,
And bringing that life home for our little circle
And then driving our kids everywhere
So they learn how to put their feet
Down on the gas pedal, too.
Why so blue, o my soul?
Don’t these begotten of you make you feel whole?
In this spinning world
Little cherubim with pie holes
They’re on the upward spiral.
Visions of their life show
They grow, and lo and behold,
They have perfected what we could never know.
Our inner parts unite to become this gold,
Which boldly shows what we are capable of
These wonderful vehicles for our talent, from above
Until to the ground they descend
And they better have their act together then,
And their own little gaggle they’ve all tended
And mended the crazy things we did to them
Not knowing what we said.
It’s those grandkids who’ll get it right,
Our kids will have enough money to pay the shrink.
Or maybe they’ll be rich enough to stop and think
Themselves about the tears they cry at night
Because they’re missing their kids little lives
That’s what that liberal arts degree is all about, right?
Better be, because we’re paying up the nose
And who knows
Whether all those wishy-washy ideas will one day show.
We became bankers, because it drove us
-Work hard and clutch
To dream only for ourselves
To escape this personal hell
Of not being able to give like we’ve been given to.
Or feeling like we always sort of miss the truth
Oracle of the future
Soothe us with images of chubby children
Who grow up to be strong men and women
To bear the problems of this world our ideals weren’t enough for.
Help us perpetuate this metaphor
Of the circle of Life
HA! Yeah right, we’re all driven by that little fright
Which meets us at night and shines light on what we didn’t know to do.
On our own we wonder,
What tore this little child inside asunder?
What sickness in parents, what blunder
Tripped our innocence
That we fell into this wheel of time.
Round, round and back again
To the image of a flightless mother hen
Little chicks who want to explore the skies,
But get couped up and all shy
And wonder why Mom gets that distant look in her eye
When she talks about her flying days.
We pray, deliver us
And we will prove
That we’re a bit better than that former brood,
That we’ve learned their lessons, and some of ours, too
And lived to want to stretch our wings,
Do we have the will?
Yes, break out and catch the wind up and swoop, whistle and chirp
And burp, and slough off hours on daydreams,
With other friends in the sky,
We may seem like we’re a swirling mass of life
To the predator, who would make us resign
To an individual struggle
But we huddle and muddle our way
Thousands of miles despite our fragile styles.
You can’t be blown by the wind
If you don’t give in because you could never win
And force you’re way to the little whistle you’re being called in with
That mate, over yonder, who beds our nest with all the plunder she could find.
And we would die someday
Small but sated with the meaning of a thousand lives, lived together.
It drives, it drives, this nameless beat in our hearts, too
We can’t believe it’s been confused
As youth, and dirtied down in reality.
It is our proof
Of an Almighty that was never aloof
But poof—created us to die
To shine, with all of that might
That was mustered to fold us into a fragile shell.
Burst forth and smell the sick-sweet manured air
All the excrement our generation could no longer bear
By life alone we live
And we won’t give in to our kids
When fear in them we see.
It’s time to burn with all our A.D.D.
And do away with our ungifted misery
We are given little chick-acockledeedoo wings.
So sing in the dawn, my little friend
There’s no-one left to judge your ends.
You’re being called to a different covenant
Free of the stony farmer’s pen
Free of generational sin
Run little legs, even if you fall
Because one day you’ll speak truth better than they all
Could ever dream of praying
Join the ravens,
And see with piercing eye,
What you need to survive and thrive
And dive down on what is dead and clean it up
For the next little pilot.
It drives,
It drives me up this wall and I can see
A brand new landscape of eternity,
And it’s for all of our humanity
So fly chickadee, fly!

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