Where is my paradise?
Where is my Brave New World?
What I see here is a hunting ground;
no Heaven,
only prey.
We used words
and thought we knew their meaning.
We built things
that made our purpose clear.
Only after the holocaust,
did we see we had it backwards;
the angels didn’t receive us.
The world was ripped and ravaged.
We were sold
a dream of Revelations.
We respected consequence
as a matter of course,
saying;
“We are not governed by
celestial collective.”
Turns out we were wrong.
Every firing neuron
blinks as if a star
and we all move in tandem
with the cosmic dust.
We thought we were the Fox
inside the henhouse,
we were not the gods
that we thought we were.
Bought another
Black Friday
trinket,
mind shackle
in a basket.
From everlasting
to everlasting,
not satisfied
since the last thing.
That high mind,
that mouth piece,
that fuck time,
this might be
the last time
we can question,
maybe change our
angle of ascension.
We’ve been wrong
up until now,
it might make sense
to just sit down
and admit we’re
in the unknown,
we’re afraid that
we’re all alone
in the darkest
place between stars.
Maybe it is,
maybe we are,
out of control.
Always will,
always will be.
Space and time,
they are nature, too.
Like the wind.
Like the scent of blood.
Heaven is
a hunting ground.
How well equipped are we now?
Will be we bring the big game down?
Will we be food for the pride?
There are lions stalking us,
everywhere;
all the time.
HG – 2017
