Captive Phoenix [poem]

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captive_phoenix

Do it how it’s always been done!
(that is, if you want to get along).
Never rock that stationary boat!
(that is, if you want to stay afloat).

[Stage direction: Pause…
while we wait for the strains
of a grovelling applause]

Fuck the rules, I say.
They aren’t really rules anyway.
Some fossilised turds
carve their ossified words
into pseudo-granite structures
which —
at any conjuncture
of history’s golden chain —
t h e y
decide should be
the
only
umbrella
in the rain.

Y?

Y do they ensure that?
& (more to the point)
Y do we accept it?

First questionanswer
is they covet control;
they know so well how
to harness a soul
(undo its uniqueness)
and blandify its goals.
Exploiting weakness
they carve out our roles
and render our works
into meaningless ‘wholes’.

Second questionanswer
is that we love to roll
over for them
like submissive little puppies
(artworld yuppies)
lying on our backs
while they stroke
our little egos
with their
platitude placebos.

It’s nothing new this
curbing of runaway minds
which threaten the grasp
of the wilfullly blind.

It’s all so smooth
and smartly designed
to ensure that the phoenix
which soars in the heavens
unfettered and free
will fail to reach home
where it harbours the key
to the fiery breath
of the treasureful depth
of the soaring blue sea.

 

© 2011, Alan Morrison

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