'An Address To The Various Eras Of Human History' Poem by Micheal Valencia

Do you remember such bored and angry
denizens to occupy Earth’s spacious body?

Were the citizens of the middle, bronze or
golden age so discontented?

Is it since Genesis we’ve possessed our bitter
turpitudes?

It’s stark and grim and my disillusionment
brings me closer to all the thumping breasts;

Hearts pine for some comfort, for some
solace:

In our journey to be closer, we drift farther
apart, Partisan Institutions:

My hostility and malice illustrates my longing
for closeness, World:

We drive us farther apart, Fellowkind.

There’s a city of blaring sounds and blinding lights outside our door, there’re constructions which defy the sky’s voluminous breadth, and I pace the empty streets;

I see a figure approach, huddled from the biting cold, and as our distance recedes he raises his head only to calculate how to most efficiently avoid contact with my person;

As I see his furtive glance, I design and execute the most effective plan in which I may divert my eyes, pretending we don’t share this small strip of land we’re traversing and that this is a moment below human consequence, leaving each other unmolested by the others presence…

I’m old and my views are bleak and my hands are clenched and my feelings are cold and my heart is closed and eyes are glazed and mind is numb and my verse is trite and my pain is trite and pain is trite and emotions are reduced to analytical categories and making categories is a sport

And it all wasn’t the way it is but it is the way it is because we’re tired and weary and sick of change and have settled down into horrible complacency