people

This was written one late night when I was feeling pretty bad

Fire flickers 'n brook bumbles
And I watch it, sat on a log
Under pink twilight painted
Upon cool summer skies
Figure the bugs need company
So unprompted I give 'em my mind

I've gone so many places,
Met such interesting folks
Been honored and respected
Been the butt of jokes
Gone rags to riches
Failed and yet, I've won!
And you critters down yonder
Know nothin' of fun

But then I stop for a second and think just a tad more
It is I alone with them, and it's by my own choice;
to get away from the hustle and bustle of all the people
To convene with the calm cosmic noise

To be true, little fellas,
It's not all fun and games
To be honest we're like you
Bound by the damnable flesh
And persons are wonderful
But people are not

For no one walks away from the Omelas, just go ahead and try
Instead, we simply choose who should live and who should die
Betwixted by roving identities, all vying for power
Who froth and who rage - who hold court in one hour

The witch hunters hunt witches, who often are not
Who then find themselves among actual witches
And with acceptance, they throw in their lot;
Now we all suffer because now we can't sort out our rot

We're driven by drives we hardly comprehend
Screens serve us hatred of our other half, our best friend;
We want fame and fortune - Are egos really so feeble?
How much sex does it take to fit through the eye of the needle?

The working man is exploited, surely through land
But it is difficult for anything else to expand
As surely as there is power (and there will always be)
There will be one in power who wants to be "free"

On the flipside I watch my brethren do nothing
but bitch and whine and hold their breath;
if only both produced something
for I am reminded that "the wages of sin is death"

For I love all the persons
and they love me too
But the people don't like me
and I hate them too

I stare at the fire and manage a wry smile
No fairness to be had in the system we're sold
I remind myself of the glorious alternatives
Yet how not all that glitters is gold
Glad I figured that one out, dear reader,
Before I got old