Slideshow Roadshow

There are days

When you wake up feeling exhausted,

Fed up of the

Status quo.

There are nights

When you go to sleep

Hoping to tilt the world

To your own moral tilt.

There are times

When you feel

That all those colours of revolution

Which you filled your ink with

Are actually just shades of

Grey.

Some days are just

The nadir of your political excursions

When you wonder

“Why not on the other side

Of the spectrum?”

While your longing for

Your own utopia

Becomes ineffable

Your inchoate anger

At the failure to do so

Tightens its hold on your

Pages.

And you sitting silently

Passively

Let it pass.

After all we don’t need

The largesse of greed

Manifested in organized

Crime, (read politics.)

And we thus decide

To let them be

To let them keep their munificence

To themselves.

And we thus decide

To starve

So that our utopia doesn’t.

And there are times

When the epiphany comes,

That palliatives are the worst of them all.

Giving us hopes as brief as

A burning candle consuming its

Own wick to feed itself.

It starves not to form

Again but to be alive and keep alive

The temporary, transient

Shape of dreams.

And then come the vulturous virtuosos

Of the pecuniary pantheon

Straight from hell

Driving in their 102s and

Playing whatever equilibrates

The ‘Free-Market’

In their signet libertarian wagon

With their trenchant gaze

Proclaiming freedom to all.

But

Then there are times

When you pick up another book

Which was kept

Hidden in plain sight

And it all seems

Possible again

Doing what we do best-

Afflicting the comfortable

With

'Theory'.