The Grave New World

Judged by my physical symptoms, I’m out of alignment.

I’m thankful that I’m permitted to live by a cartoon government,

I’m the actor in a pandemic play rehearsing for survival,

encrypted in the dictatorial pages of the Wall Street Journal,

it’s about a showoff of power (I’m expecting a director’s cut out of existence,

for I’m tired of “everything will be alright” announcing the failure of a system

in which GDP and patience are coming to pieces, no suspense),

it’s about increased unbalance and the international threat to democracy

but the real shock is still to arrive: the cancelling of sovereignty.

The screenplay is tense and keen on convincing me to be extraordinary:

endure, suffer… to then betray me through my immunity.

It’s a sure Oscar for the destruction of this society.

*

This is the N-th, the last nail in the coffin of speech liberty

-truth indicator of a dis-ease state - I shall not witness silently,

I shall restore my health without your external soothing but with creativity.

I only needed a spark to awaken my warrior spirit and my vibrancy,

I eye the political decaying carcasses: Do you have a message for me??

I have truth bumps all over my body waiting for the answer,

nudging me forward indicating that this is my part,

which comes from my soul, thus for the duration of my act,

steadily and with all the courage I can muster,

I break the barrier of fear. And at the same time,

but in a more poetic way, I curse. Here’s the sneak preview:

“Dear establishment, may you thrive on a dead empty rock

forever ever after.”

 

(nevereux, may 2020)

 

Done