The Human in InHUMANity

scp_106_by_belemonguin-d98r09t

as the needle stuck
the song became torture

is this when we became like savages?
Did we disappear
like the last of the ice age’s
ancient,
purest snow?

We became dried, wilted
potential overtaken by diseases
like consumerism
carried by emerging globalisation
way before when
we were still ankle high to
virtue
grace, kindness,
compassion
love, tolerance,
humanity

now we wade knee deep
in blood.
deceit, treachery,
cruelty,
anger and poverty,
war –
inhumanity’s bones
and severed ego’s
fill graveyards
while we
create
seed beds of
derision

we strip away the promises
we make; some still hang like
rancid fruit,
none for our labours,
none for the babies without mothers
whose cries echo
in chambers;
rubble is not marketable,
but concrete
crumbs are the new harvest

we sell licenses
that fund wars
and injustices –
terrorism
basks where tourism
would like to be
and we franchise
greed and ambivalence;
bloodied artefacts
sells on stalls
in high end cultures,
whose bulging eyes can’t see
the horror
for $£€¥
signs.

We drill subversion
and oppression into our earth’s
sobbing, sodden grief –
butchering it
with heavy machinery

we strip it bare
yanking its hair from roots
until bloody scalps
weep and all our selfish actions,
and double standards,
fume from chimneys
and the smokers lung of
industry –

vapid excuses rise
to prick holes
in the very fabric
of humanity –
trying to clothe our existence,
up there out of sight
out of mind
just another layer,
flimsy,
diaphanous

we slash and razor burn
and exfoliate
till the planet lies naked
without succour
or so much as a smell
of cold money laying
on the dresser
after
we take
and take
and take
and take
and take.
and kill
and kill
and kill
and kill
and kill.
and watch
and watch
and watch
and watch
and watch.

 

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