“Born Into Insanity” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith

Death by one’s own hand is a terrible thing,

And everyone says so,

And everyone agrees.

But the real question is this:

Given the The World is as it is,

We should be asking,

“why don’t more people do it?”.

After all, when you really look at it,

‘The World’ is designed to create misery.

We’re living in a contrived artificial reality,

That was artificial long before computers were around.

For all the most important stuff – energy, food, housing,

We have Cartels owned & run by Psyco’s who create artificial shortages,

To jack up the price,

This all keeps The Hamsters redlining themselves on the wheel.

If they stop running the wheel will kill them in a second.

The wheel will throw them under the nearest bridge,

And it does all the time.

We can be sure of one thing:

The World is by design a bad place for most.

So much so that even those ‘doing well’ are miserable.

The Truth is we should all still be living as hunter gathers,

Or at worst in small self-sufficient villages.

This was the real design of the Earth,

And is what every other creature abides by.

It’s just the humans that let themselves be hoodwinked,

All those millennia ago.

We were just born into it, & so never thought it was truly fucked up.

We were all born into insanity,

And we will die in it.

And most will never realise.

Always question things –

For unquestioned ‘normality’ is anything but.

But for now.

We are still the butt of own own jokes.

For those of us ‘in the know’,

Let us not be all like

“Oh dear, how sad, never mind”.

Addendum:

Sadly I still predict the Chattering Classes will continue to only Chatter.



“The Landlord, The Weed & The Warlords” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

My Gardener Read A Lot About Napoleon

When I asked Him To Pull Weeds He Refused

He Said He Hadn’t Yet Finalised Battleplans

For The Eastern Portion Of My Yard

I asked Him “But Are You Up For It?”

He Said “It May Be My Demise”

I Turned Around & Went Back To My Silly-Screen.

& Left Him To Turn the Pages Of His ‘Parallel Lives’

When I Returned An Hour Later

A Russian Gardener Had Usurped Him

I Was About To Celebrate My Weeds Death

When I Saw He Too Was Holding A Book

“The Brothers Karamazov”

Oh No I Thought As I Realised That

My New Gardener Was Reading Stalin’s Favourite Book

I Tested Him

“Would You Mind Pulling Those Weeds” I Asked

He Simply Pointed Over To the Garden

My Landlord Was Pulling the Weeds Out

But They Were Also Tied to a Stake

I Went Back Inside to My Silly-Screen With A Broad Smile

It Was Nice To See Societies Roles Reversed

And Soon the Garden Would Look Great!

For Garden Work Is Just Like the History of Tyranny

The Ends Justify the Means.