PESSIMISMS 1  

By David Eide  

Where the man met the modern world, Sinking down in his isolation, on the bus; Looming black man on the corner Disabled and diseased in the doorway; Standing, in March, at the steps of the library, Gibbous and fading orange like a moon That had stayed around too long; Noise drove into his body like ice Noise conquered the world and turned cities Into idiots: the idiots ruled the idiots. And nude women talked to lonely men for a dollar The minds rebellion turned around in a panic; Fumes killing the people, rushed into houses As the Holy Ghost once did and babies were taken And left for wolves who rampaged in the flatland. There is no light here; the killers rule. And they kill With impunity with only slight protest. The books collect dust, Are useless against the onslaught of stimulation So, everything is lost. The woman scorns the Virgin and praises the Prostitute The man loses discrimination and babbles helplessly As his world perishes. The thread of civility is cut by an avenger Who arrives seeking gods to kill; there are no gods, He says, only men and women. This is now the fight, the eternal fight, And the academics have surrendered already afraid Of offending someone or intimated as the monks were Of rampaging Vikings.



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