an apple pie existence

a century ago, still we where an agricultural society
now, plowed lands are of lost propriety
for steady the growth of our material choices
from shamefully shallow and hallow homes are self echoed voices

as it is us who are the wasted, the un-functional the un-fair
standing shadowed on a spiraled stare
as it is us who've become enamored by our themes,
cars boats our un-sizable dreams
loosing values in the ever growing ease
of pix-elated color tv's

now part of the city its brutal artifice we face problems and pressures
stressing desperate measures
its entirety a fabrication of self undressing
an urban masking of the natural blessing
for how attractive the guilty conscious
of the miss-man-nerd stanches
as wealthy professions indulge upon
the green the manicured the lawn
and frown for finding their yacht's far to small
yet in some way don't we all

so they stand not alone
but a chorus of single tone
for our desire to join their ranks
we ourselves become the skanks
in the double standards of duality
lies this self constrained reality

as we are all the dilettante of endless want.
and it is i
and you who

have sold out to the world in which we are
stopping short to lower the bar

whilst few find themselves beyond conflict
and chose not to label yet depict
that scattered or stacked
nothing is fact

it is a loss of values applied
to our every stride

the way we train our children and treat a lover
the way we live un-peaceably amongst each other

as no longer we are quiet in the land nor bestill in the heart
for now we play a parody a part

as we live in a society that is geared
to making money and ruling the feared
preserving each our "way" of life
without examining the specifics of our strife.

as there are many good things about an apple pie existence

though questionable our current slice
to which we dare not think twice
as apples picked out of country and out of season
the unknown farmer poorly paid for no good reason
sells his sugar the cane of coke
whose brown bubbles choke
the people, the effort, the value of baked bread
now packaged sliced and fed


though answers are to be found
with intent and inner sound
here we'll come to find
the same of every kind
and see for each the other
of our own an inward lover
which in we accept our sin
and soon begin
turning blind eyes
towards our ugly our inhuman our lies
no longer we'll trick the self
thinking there is a shelf
to put and place one above another
truly seeing the same, one mother

then and there
amidst this honest care
matched by our intent
our actions no longer unmeant

we can see and serve
the equal we all deserve

for there and then
is when
we need not dread
the unknown,
the future ahead





rfk 2011
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