Friday, April 13, 2007

Ego

The whole nation celebrated when the news hit. And did they ever celebrate. News anchors drank on live television while the streets overflowed with dancing, laughing, overjoyed Americans. For the next day or so the roadways were so crowded it was impossible to drive anywhere. Not that anyone cared. There was much cause for jubilation, and the president agreed, officially marking that day, January 26th, as a national holiday. Soon the street fiestas abated, and life went on. Or perhaps it began anew, new in the hearts and minds of the people, new in the way cautious smiles were reciprocated by total strangers.

Elsewhere there was a similar initial reaction. When Studebaker and his colleagues had taken the stand and announced themselves cancer free the whole world had taken a collective intake of breath. Surprisingly calm, Studebaker himself had followed up the announcement with his proclamation that administration of the drug would start immediately, as soon as the pharmaceutical megacorporations could be shipped the ingredients necessary to begin manufacturing.

It took four full days to create enough of the tonic to begin application, and another week went by before anyone realized the truth. And it didn't take long before people started reacting. Not the Americans of course, they had all the medication they needed. No, it was the Japanese who struck first. First it was a hospital in South Carolina, then one in Texas. Russia followed this with a daring attack on the Grand Central Hospital of New York. Nation after nation began to invade in a concerted effort to acquire this miracle drug, the cure for man's most dogged, seemingly insatiable disease.

We never even put up a fight.

Five hundred thousand died over the space of a week, unbelievable numbers I know. I cannot even go outside anymore, the carnage is too great. Our once great country has been ripped to shreds by greed. Not their greed, no, they were just doing what they needed to in order to survive. No, it was our greed, our insatiable hunger to be on top, to be the best. Well it seems we pushed them a little too far. Our capitalistic attitude wasn't even the worst; it was when we restricted access that things changed. I wish there was someone else to hold responsible, someone else to blame: but I know, deep down, there's no one.

So as I, James T. Ross, huddle closer to the monitor of my laptop and pray that the power holds out just a little bit longer, I needs must confess: I knew why we were so easily defeated. I knew then, and I know now that all over the world, millions - no, billions of people are experiencing the very same thing. This miracle drug, this cure-all, is a poison to the mind. It eats away, not at the physical body, but at the soul of a human being. It makes us passive . . . weak.

I can feel the ground shaking now, at precisely seven-second intervals. It's probably the Germans; they've been bombing the area for weeks now. As it stands those few pilots buzzing overhead and myself are probably the only ones on earth who are still capable. Coherent.

Alive.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

My Hat

Rumpled and black,
Lines run,
Scramble,
Twist and turn amongst one another,
For the sake of aesthetic pleasure.

Form and function coalesced,
In a convenient sun-shading brim,

Warm,

A soft warmth like a puppy's fur,
Like the love of a close friend.

My head is encased in hope.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Pay Attention!

Why,
Eat for the sake of food?
Only when the mood
Strikes

Do you enjoy what you consume?
When it permeates the room,
When o'er your shoulder it looms,
And it picks at you and grooms,

With pointed, grinning eyes,
With one thousand shiny smiles,
The closest friend you never had,
In wily innocence is clad,

To steal from you
Your pleasure,
Time mis-consumed,
Will be your tomb.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

If I say the words
But forget them,
Did they ever really mean anything,
--------------------Or were they just
---------------------------------Noise?

I don't know,
I can't


Remember.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

The Metro

Why in this world do we not care,
When lovers we see standing there?
When hand in hand, life passes by,

Though observers do not try,
They do not heed,
Their anxious speed,

In check is their appreciation,
Intent on distilling their creation,
It is enough to wrench the heart,

That in this life, there is no art,
We do not try to play the part,
Though we all know before we start,

In life is
Beauty, in beauty
Love, in love
Joy.

And joy is not the cupid's dart,
But love and beauty,
Joy and art.