by sandra monday
Published on: Nov 24, 2004
Type: Poetry

Today at work a young man
Told me if everyone in the world became the same
It was progress.

That it was fine to have identical thinking
A culture devoid of imagination, independent thought, insight
Society peopled by completely obedient biochemical machines
Smiling cyborgs with broken hearts and empty minds
Wired with phony advertising, target marketing, brand names
Entertained by cellophane cell phone games
And corny catch phrases like "sweet"

If I have to hear that again standing at my station,
I will vanquish the tongue of the foul thing uttered from
the ignorant
To destroy the blaspheme against humanity which is pop culture
When the other boy said that it was good to have
Identifying electronic tags on all what you buy because
"He has nothing to hide"
I wanted to retch

Who cares if you have nothing to hide
whatever happened to "Its none of your damn business!"
For by giving up our own right to privacy we are giving up
Our essential uniqueness
What is there to hide anyway
Is something to hide being different, being gay, being black, being atheist,
Being Christian, being Buddhist, being Jehovah witness refusing to say the pledge of allegiance in a high school classroom, being a pothead, being a questioner, being anarchist

Exactly what is having nothing to hide
White republican obedient
You wear your standard sunglasses, your standard yellow bracelet they all wear now,
Your standard Nikes your standard haircut and
outfit that the magazines tell you is all the rage
you agree with the status quo
because you have no inner resources
it being better to leave your likes and dislikes up to
The marketing professionals at axiom database
Instead of turning to crazy beliefs
Like humanism, truth and beauty

Technology is so much more valued than love
by worshippers of tech who are the merchants of death
For they were never born
Only the artist lives, because the artist loves
Because by creating you are one
With the Creator
You are one of the children of light
And no one can take that from you

Certainly not the zombies in their identical outfits and milky white skin
They are dead
And killed everything they touched by turning it into
Gold like King Midas and his daughter
Every tree they touch dies, their public schools
Are deigned to kill the minds of the young
So they can breed more zombies like themselves

And your job is to avoid them
And keep growing keep learning stay alive
Avoid being bit by the dead.

(November 9, 2004)

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