Slumped On The Shoulders Of Dwarves Poem by Steve Downes

I am vanquished by pressure unseen
my lungs are rasped by air unclean
and my eyes are bagged
by images and magazines obscene

Obsessively I repeat my day
the day is obsessive in its repetition
obsessively
repetitious
did I mention my day is like that?

I am held aloft to the stars
by those who never look up
from the toil of TV’s convenience
here I slump too exhausted to protest
too proud to prostrate and too foolish
to be happy

These systems we have to make us Gods
have made us children
they look down on us
from their giants and laugh
as the jolly jackasses beneath

Those beaten by stress
Or stressed at the prospect of defeat
Come
Slump with me
On the shoulders of dwarves
While we rely on technological wonders
And wonder why we have achieved nothing