I sit somewhere in the middle of a maze
disabled, like any regular person,
by my personal preference, my desire
for a cleaner, kinder, better, fairer world;
by choices acted on and the consequent
powerlessness of my ever decreasing,
financial, vote. Somewhere behind another
hedge, a clash of massive forces lock antlers
as the rutting stag of capitalism
evades democracy and charges head on
into its nemesis. I sit in the eye
of the storm, choosing the ideology
of less. Proud now of the movement of people
against market forces, of people against
the destruction of society by the
inequality of the Great Capitalist
Delusion. The rotten boroughs, the giants
of acquisition, rut, roar on the brink of
extinction, the catastrophic fall waiting
on their blind side. While we, still in the centre,
go our own way, refusing to move, or buy
our way out with a lifetime indenture to
greed, intolerance, violence and hatred.
I sit with such great sadness for the hareem
of innocents eager to avoid the clash,
unaware of fuelling the inevitable
with their own brand of whimsical choice.
I remain, still but not silent, and ready
to be counted.
It may not be democracy that fails us,
rather our politicians who cannot find
means to protect us from the ravages
of a capitalism that has found its own
way to circumvent the democratic process.
And our own whimsicality fuelling a need to follow;
fuelling a media dangling, willy-nilly,
from that same capitalism’s coat-tails.
A media so desperate to ride the wave
it goes to any length to invent the wolf,
the diversion that will feed the culture of blame
and hatred that strives to enslave us,
distract us from the poverty of helplessness;
bribe us with the annual corruption of giving…
-By Gini