KYLE SLEDGE

When you wake at noon
The whole day’s a wash
Might as well consume
With eyes, ears, and watch
The tales from the tube
Spoon fed like a nosh
With no nutritional value

The flat panel screen
Deems what’s real, what’s not
Which dreams or beliefs
Ought flourish or rot
It takes you through scenes
Designed in each shot
To squash all critical thinking

The fashions displayed
Behaviors and plots
Should all be obtained
Adopted and bought:
“Your life is too plain.
“You’re lame and you’ve got
“Nothing of merit to claim.”

Illusion of choice
Programmed in the stock
Of memories poised
To brainwash the flock
Ensnared by the noise
The Hollywood schlock
Becomes the definitive voice

Life imitates art
For you check the clock
You’re late for the part
Of your part-time job
Scrub, clothe, disembark
Then like a sitcom
You forgot you got fired in March

Channeling a gloom
You walk ‘round the block
The autumn leaves strewn
The wet streets in clots
Thoughts like a monsoon
The rain, too, it drops
Then back home to drown in cartoons

I get the feeling inside
We’re near the end of days
The nights keep falling faster
Than a UV ray
Societies are embedded with a deep malaise
Their freedoms turned us to slaves
Those who preach peace hate
Openly with passive efforts
Language twisted to sate
Sycophantic imbeciles
Who crave nothing but praise
We all marvel as the charnel house
Goes up in a blaze
Until the flames crawl close enough
To lick our face

Stop, drop, roll to the rhythm
Of someone who perceives
The culture’s tapestry’s frayed
Ripping at the seams
A stitch in time unwinds and we retread dead beliefs
The purse awarded to thieves
History repeats
Blatantly while fresh distractions
Lead us straight to the feed
Starving gods full of ourselves
With only bread to eat
It’s a wonder over-under’s not
Extinct in a week
That is, unless humanity’s
Arc remains bleak

So when the cold wind cuts in
And sweeps us off our toes
To an orchestra’s number
Which Lord only knows
Keep count with the cadence of every blessing bestowed
Mind all moments of repose
Watch the rivers flow
Rapidly as a placid rage
Washes clean and erodes
Detrital devilry
Formed from evils composed
Of the fractions borne of actions stirred
By thoughts which arose
Through our unobserved emotions
Given control

A leaf floating from a spiderweb’s thread
The kiss of a long lost love in a dream
A worry pulled gently out of your head
The warm thrill of a well-placed harmony
A satisfying end to a novel
The call from a friend who’s been on your mind
A kind act that combats feeling awful
The matching sock you thought you’d never find
A blank canvas becoming expression
The first day in a new town now called home
A job when it turns into profession
The laughter after fear crawls in its hole
A life lived will have its ups and its downs
The world whirls with magic woven throughout

I
Awake alone from sleep somewhat subdued
Start to abhor this age of solitude
Infinite dreams could be the remedy
Instead, it’s out of bed––nature’s calling

I
Brew a pot of coffee to stimulate
Brainstorms to rain ideas and change my state
From arid lands to fertile, fecund soil
Which nurtures seeds planted singly with toil

I
Tend the crops with care, watch closely for sprouts
For these budding shoots could help supplant doubts
Of never branching out to find true love
Of faith yielding nothing from God above

I
Work until twilight, when day meets the dark
Take stock of the landscape changed since the start
Thoughts in mind have grown wheat and tare entwined
Only one will be spared come harvest time

I
Remain in shade as breeze blows around me
My sole friends wind and a magnolia tree
Self-cultivation’s a lonesome business
Though its labor’s fruits are hard to dismiss