#197 - footnote to capitalism

17.7.20

197

very rough sketch for

(another) footnote to capitalism

or

are we a danger to ourselves

why ask?

it’s not the crocodile’s job to yell ‘watch out for the crocodile’

                                         – Henri Michaux

there is no tree to climb now

brontosaurs still bay, dug

swamp done

mangroves vanished

no air, it’s over

we are afraid of the rain

of the wind

of the sun

afraid of the fire we’ve made

a bell rings!

gold mountain

it was always enough to live forever

forever was never enough

we warm by the glow of finite resources

lovely in the darkness to come

graph top teeter

we live under the bottom line now

loll in the zero sum red

a sea of it silver

and swim

you’ll never make it

it’s great to see you go down

it does the trick for me

we must have been resourceful

headed up the curve

lived the pointy end

for the great glory of cash

take it with you!

as if the train wreck

kept an eye on us

one up the captain

down with the ship

some moments remembered from other days

the tragedy then farce

build and dismantle

with the same strokes

bring from the Earth to burn

it is deep

fire in the middle’s never gone out

we are afraid of ourselves most of all

in this never alone

but may soon be

you’d think distances would keep us safe now

but distances are gone

these almost human shapes

the staircase down and out

a great advance on feudalism

patrician and plebeian

shoulder this wheel and more

who’ll grease? 

tears by the vial

what am I bid?

something fungible for sure

the wheels come off

and hear the cheering

forest, garden, ocean deep

sky in its endless revisions

each equally anathema

the living breath

free bodies

yet with a whiff

and ride the curve

lean bends round

and up the wall

where greed drives?

where it will land?

nobody knows

the senselessness and sneer

the cold command

ethics of an earthworm

action?  washing machine

see the drowned around around

that’s entertainment

when it breaks down

big party

no one will count the bodies then

this thing beyond

and dig deep

hide the struggle

in your head

in the sand

chained to a sinking clock

why tell me sky’s the limit?

who are you trying to fool?

of course the fossils would end up in charge

everything up the chimney and gone

I came by dinosaur

tune of up

as played on the pornograph

never a level field – where’s the fun?

I’ll meet you on that fireman’s pole

(always go up by the stairs)

under cover of things that are noble and fine

we spread this disease

imagine it’s over now

cast all forest to the endnotes now

we’re off to the nth degree

always the latest

all tapping our toes

it’s grey, hypnotic

in a charcoal suit

and what’s the world become?

exit, pursued by a bear

without a song like this in your heart

you’ll go down every time