Becoming Dumbed Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

My life for what
why should I consider
cruelty above compassion
humankind’s obsession
individual transgressions
personally, obliviously…
Why foolishly trigger
the dichotomy of
whatever considering
forever is a very
substantial endeavor…
Why eternally struggle
against naturally given
stimuli battling daily before
what is rarely proved
to be wrong or right?
Consciousness apparently
appreciates this moment
by moment quest…
Above compassion
humankind’s obsession
transgressions and schizophrenic
personalities are obviously reflected
in our pompous self-righteousness…
An eternally damning struggle continues
against naturally expressive individuality
ever honoring the ‘crowd’ mentality; a feeling
of freedom’s faux, euphorically boring to me…
Reality appears to be that we all phuuck, shite
and pee; the brilliance of self only, that
sensibility is a distant unreachable goal
and common sense is an afterthought
considered to be so droll and useless
and passé, so we each succumb
to becoming dumbed…
Actually, physically, mentally,
and emotionally downed without
the need for any ‘new drug’ to do so
when was it said, “one is better off dead”
a thought filled and less than ecstatic truth
and in excuse, a denial; guilty are we all without
a trial; escaping the complexity of modern society…
Living’s essence is so thrashed and our spirits threshed
and the chafe of this is considered more highly than
the grain, and in memories; I read memory’s plain
and oh the pain beginning the ends
tending to the exhausted faggots all
of the human species have become…
Faggots, as in the ‘origin’ of the word
belittlers of self, rudimentary butt sucks
social misfits, mental miscreants and such
that pandering afterthought to any member
of that haunty ‘Crown’; paupers and primps and
clowns and jesters, imbeciles and err to wiles
and pedophiles and not worth the whiles
using glued on smiles and faux profiles to
exorcise impossible personalities of limited self
of useless flesh, of such non-resounding Ventkatesh
Oh what the heck! It is getting late… And IAM
waiting patiently for these words to wake
just one ounce of conscious thought in any
debutante, in any mind that wants for wisdom’s
tout; that has the capacity and strength to shout
their demons out, oust the learnings, the leanings
the teachings; the fallacies the fantasies, the
crippling disease of this thoughtless society
willing to oust your inner displeasures
and your wanting whatever’s…
Come one, come all and do so
pleasure me; with your questionings
your inquiries, your most private thoughts
and quotes from your diaries, would you please
each and every one attempt to contact me for
IAM that which the all of you do so need… IAM
that cup to catch the blood you bleed that whisper
in answer to your deepest pleadings, the silence
which calms you as you are sleeping…
The voice of replenishing that keeps
you healthy, the hand of a friend
and the touch of the ages
IAM your within that can
always come out, IAM
that truth’s friend beyond
any doubts; so holler at me
as you will; IAM always about…
I can get your dumbed down thoughts
to once again clarify and loudly shout
expressively in clarity your reality
can be outed out by me…