The Drone Parade

Pull up the sheets

and wish away the day.

Shut your eyes

and wish the world away.

There is no love left

in your menial,


drone parade.

Marching to and from the hive

you’re not even alive,

you’re just another name.


You’ve traded all your time for pay.

Money doesn’t change hands,

numbers don’t move on the page.

Just a bunch of ones and zeros

take your basic needs away.

You’re really just a well dressed slave.


vetted by your captors

when they say;

you’re valued by the upper hierarchy.

From family,

to school,

to a professional degree;

part of you knows you were never free.


So this is why you recoil

from every morning,

it’s just not important.

Inside you are dying,

your mind is exploding,

you’re choking back tears,

your will is corroding.

The world was once vibrant colors,

now all of the edges are grey.

You can’t face that banal routine today

and wishing won’t make it all go away.


The whispers say,

it’ll have to be

the bullet of the blade.

Sever that umbilical cord,

face what has made you afraid.

It’s time to leave the hive,

all the bees are dying anyway.


Freedom is what seems insane

to a person who’s adopted their name

from a world that doesn’t feel their pain

at the start of every work day.




this world was never safe.

Everything you’ve known

has been a fake.

You know it by the way you cannot take

another step that way.

Simply from the womb

into the grave;

it doesn’t have to be this way.


HG – 2016

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