Global Idol Idyll - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
What were priorities of yesterday?
Subsistence fraught with much fragility,
man's coil unshuffled soon, as end of play
stem cut from rose bloom, life-expectancy
short, caught in superstition cowled in grey,
or shaman stripping Easter Island's tree.
Fee none avoid when piper waits on pay.
Mistakes men made are coming home to roost.
A la recherche du temps perdu most flee
too little energy remains to boost.
Vision absent, in new century,
this global village veers off script: see Proust.
Pollution, pillage, menace land and sea,
as 'havoc and the gods of war' are loosed.
We flee towards an end both known, unknown,
here straight, there stony, seldom seem in key,
follow a path which our own past has sown,
what city_zen's in tune with Destiny?
Faith's sculptured cyphered symbols should be shown
to hold lost truth ruthless modernity
has cast away, wind willy-nilly blown.
Volcanic, Mother Nature Iceland fires,
Frost's 'Fire and Ice' combine to offer clouds
no silver lining, scorches most desires,
unemployment offers idle crowds
whose idol 'I'm_material' requires
waste for the sake of waste till ash-cloth shrouds
bury dopes' hopes as role control backfires.
Some look for truth, if truth there be, yet wait
on chance, advance, just motives undermined,
seek miracle that must emancipate
the will to change, new open outlook find.
Too many fool themselves, prevaricate,
toil, trouble, hubble-bubble trail behind
berate self-blindness few eliminate.
But fear of fear too often dissipates
both sense and inner sensitivity,
impressions outlined by the hand that Fate's
swift moving finger writes for clarity,
then senseless seem priorities, debates,
when blind eye's turned by grovel vanity,
and vested interest pride of place vacates.
No writing on the wall anticipates
decline and fall, can versatility
sidestep, swim from, storm maelstrom tumbling dates
from palm oasis in whate'er degree,
to save man's game Time's tide can terminate.
Mistakes are made as visibility
is lacking, insight dawning far too late.
There's none so blind as those who will not see,
for actions much delayed must compromise
success where false excuse is found to be
but ruse refusing acts where fact supplies
evidence of misuse, humanity
manipulates heedless to blue planet's cries,
extracts from Nature's generosity.
Hope for true scope, with insights wise obeyed,
is countered by misMANagement, strife sore,
shadowy lack of confidence displayed
behind bluff mask, aggression, rifled store,
MAN_'tis game regardless idols preyed
proves riddle rarely idyll, unjust law
spurns common weal, would Fate's spun ignore.
Veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burkha maid
both silver spoon and slum lie dumb, stilled tune
divorced from light by self-inflicted shade,
with passing sigh to signify too soon
in contradiction to lip-service paid
no generation's proved its acts as boon
throughout Earth's girth through time, man's vain parade.
What's left, sewn through waft-weft of life's rapports,
suffers from fear of Death's amoral spade,
learns no lessons, prudence spurns, tooth, claw,
enjoys its self-destruction, hand out-played,
serves not, rots vision clear, fears what's in store,
yet errors unmended leave man's world afraid
as progress is divorced from natural law.
Today's priorities tomorrow fade,
dissolve distorted by Time's tug of war.
turn sour before their zest to rest is laid.
What all important seemed one day before,
incorporated into causal braid,
is dropped for gain immediate, more! more!
is trumped with basic instincts disobeyed.
When karmic candle hour's done, rich and poor,
pomp, power, cower, race, pace, trace forgotten,
darkness enshrouds all, Nature's shutters draw
a blind, close up close down man ill-begotten.
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