DISEASE AND SOCIAL MORASS

 

It is with deep regret that I report on the uncelebrated demise of a foundling:

The new born, of one hundred and twenty seven years,

has succumbed to an undiagnosed case of consumption

for which a cure of worth could not be found;

Even when considering that an attempt at remedy

included the axing of parts from the foot to the crown.

The poor health experienced by the patient in solitude;

left cries of anguish that went unheard.

 

The traditional approach of bleeding was found to be ineffective;

having been a practice misadministered over several decades.

The insurgence of knife wielding operandi were responsible

for the patients impoverished constitution.

The primary approach, of utilizing the energy

of the most unprotected limbs to supplement the development

of the most privileged, had resulted in an immobile carcass,

ingratiated to its own self dependency.

 

The physical gratification of a small segment of the fledgling

had ignored moral responsibility and development.

The idea of a conservative approach to a liberal capital experience

took  the bare bones of supporting structure

and piled them into a discarded heap, unrecognized and unattended.

 

The principles of the employment of capital

for the expansion of wealth is only of value

where there is a shared distribution of its accumulation

in a broad range of the social strata.

The consumption of the elements of productivity

must be linked to their creation,

by the individuals who are themselves to benefit

in the employment of their manufacture.

 

How does one diagnose disease?

What of the spiritual abandonment of morality?

Will the medical practitioner defer his expertise?

The cleric stands aside to give absolution!

 

The body now a shell, a broken effigy.

The law has flogged the idle and the ignorant,

stripped away all remnants of individuality.

There is a sense of virtue held by the most unvirtuous.

Profit is the extolling of a given price.

There is no allowance for failure,

Or for the inability to pay.

 

Human waste is unrecyclable.

Blood and bone are poor fertilizer,

And the risk of communicating death greatest,

rendered by viruses and other social infection.

There are those blind not from birth, but from greed.


 

 

Who will lay to rest the unworthy?

Age is an inconsistent identifier,

given varying degree of prominence.

The young hope to dream, the old try to lead.

Today those who have possession of the past reach out,

to grab tomorrow, with both hands and firm grip.

They are unwavering in choking that within their grasp.

There is no room left in which the bystander may gain opportunity,

and none is provided to the incumbent to earn an apportionment.

 

Rituals are performed with great ceremony!

Proud words are uttered in gesture, unsuited to nobility or noble thought.

There is a flourish of action where thoughts themselves may perish.

Orators spell bound cast their spells;

A net of truths so holey, the air permeates the core most freely.

What weight of commitment will carry a sense of proportion,

a sense of fairness, or a sense of equality?

 

Again the day speeds by, the cycle of light unharnessed.

Dawn can bring a sober reality.

Waves undulate and flow unstopped by buildings or boundaries.

Nature in its own time waits the outcome that will be the eventuality.

 

Dinosaurs, fossiled remain, a remnant of their own history.

There lies no sense, or purpose, in their passing,

their future now trapped in their past.

 

Man looks intensely at rocks formed by uncontrolled action,

he acts uncontrollably on buildings which are only rocks.

There is a monument of each to the other;

the fact of foolishness compared to the foolish act.

People, as individuals, contribute to the social morass;

 Individually without action, they fall foul once again to the past.

 

The present cries alone;

A bosom bound unfeeling, no longer a part

of the potential prize of progress,

but of the unconnected and disowned.

 

Many years will pass before there is recognition

of the value of the present's foundation,

where the base to build upon is one which will not last!

We cannot be a future, for the present is the future's past!

The best of action we may hope for, is that tomorrow will today surpass!

 

May 1995 © Will George


Will George Poet

will-george-poet.co.uk