‘Twas the season

There’s a reason

Or an environmental treason

They call it gross consumption

Black Friday

Isn’t the day
the bottom line
Changes color
From red to black
Like dried blood
It’s the day
Hearts are
hardened
Humans are
Trampled
Souls
Are lost
Necessities are
Negated
Wallets, like minds
Are emptied
In the void
So telling
Buying everything
That’s selling
What is it
Why bother
Don’t care
Get me another

(This took a turn I hadn’t planned,  yet the typing digits kept going so I left it here)

Children are
Chided
Or is it
Derided
Behave like
A slave
So young
And naive

An overseer
You can’t see
Or exists
Is WATCHING
You
Good behavior
Isn’t a
Choice
It’s a
Manipulation by
A voice
Unconscious Parental
Noise

Contrived malfeasance
To ensure silence
Or stop violence
A good tool
As a rule
If you can
Make it jive
For
Another 365
Till they get
Older
Or stop
Crying,
Knowing all along
You’ve been
Lying

Another turn ?   WTF?

Invisible ink
Is what this
Should have been
Written in
Or at least
White on white
Digitized pixels
For it is
Ridiculous
That this will
Anyone Influence
I know I write
This for myself
It belongs in my
Brain or on a shelf
Perhaps it is just
A convoluted
Atta boy for
Leaving
Any and all
Would be
Persons
Safely in the
Spirit realm

No consuming
Consumer
No bullied
Bullier
No parent
Perturber
No earning
Worker
Making traffic
Harder
No targeted
Soldier
No discrimination
Fodder or
Plotter
No religion to
Martyr
No circumcised
Boy or daughter
No bank
Borrower
No school
clogger

Or useless
Blogger

Oh shit, that’s me.

“I’m one of those people who doesn’t really know what he thinks until he writes it down. “

Jake Epping AKA George Amberson

From Stephen King’s “11/22/63”

As I finish
Writing this
Which may
Be the why
To
Internally gloat
Keeping
Hope afloat
Go along
To get along
Making
Entropy strong
Knowing
I’ve crawled
Half a mile
By expunging
This bile
To smile
All the while
Doing my best
With what’s left
Complain now nary
A sound
Making it better
For next time
Around

And he “(Andy) crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit-smelling foulness I can’t even imagine- or maybe I just don’t want to.  Five hundred yards… that’s the length of five football fields; just shy of half a mile.”

Red

“Shawshank Redemption”