A Condition Of Apathy

Don’t look at that which disturbs you. Don’t think about that which bothers you. Don’t question why things are. Don’t consider alternatives for those who will do it for you. Don’t try to change things. You are too small to understand. Know your place.

Standing, poised,
Banana peel in hand.
Compost? Be green?
A moment of flickering thought.
Don’t want rats!
Don’t want the stench!
And abruptly it falls into the trash.

The dark, the night, the street, walking.
In an alley of shadows,
Three hold one,
Fist after fist falls.
The walking slows a moment,
Then eyes avert,
Head down,
Keep walking.
Not me?
Don’t care.

Drive to the grocery store.
Two blocks?
Too far to walk.
Organic? Local? Fair trade?
Too much money,
Too much effort,
And want that new outfit.

Waiting room,
Waiting patiently,
Sitting in a chair.
Old man standing,
Frail and wobbles.
All seats taken.
Give up seat?
But who was here first?
But? But I was here first?

Not on duty,
Walks down the street.
Cars collide, someone hurt?
Someone injured?
Not on duty, to fix, to heal, to help.
Not on duty.
So walks into coffee shop.

Newspaper in hand.
Front page article.
Clear cutting for new mall?
Goodbye trees.
Goodbye nature.
Good, good,
More shopping selection.

TV on,
Election time.
Neighbours house licked
With flames.
Shouts abound,
Guns drawn.
Time to vote?
No time.
Must shop online.

The tree of life burns.
Greatest sacrifice.
The reward?
More new shiny babbles,
More new things,
It is well worth the price.

The robot stands,
It nods its head.
Make them slaves.
Make them suffer.
Make them die.
In exchange a new gadget.
Yes this is a fair trade?
The children of the future cry.

It sits behind the desk,
4000 pounds stuffed with bills and coins,
Fat lips twist upwards,
Eyes gleam with lust.
The masses give offerings,
Baskets, buckets, armfuls
Of earning scraped from near empty pockets.
It sits ripe,
Ready to pop
At one poke in the belly.

Don’t look.
Don’t think.
Don’t question.
Don’t consider.
Don’t change.
Is this who we want to be?

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