"pigshit" poems
Living by ideology must be comforting.
The freedom of constraint, the security of single-mindedness.
It gives one a sense of position; rooted
Behind battle-lines, clear division.
I always thought Marxists naive,
But not in the way you might think -
I was impressed by the notion that the ruling classes
Knew what they were doing.
Subjugation is at least part of a plan.
Humanism simply baffles me:
One might as well believe in
The primacy and potential of pigshit.
Even nihilism is ideology; its comforting
Sense of community: "We believe in one Nothing."
Ideological blinkers preserve order
By blocking out the surrounding chaos.
Perhaps I should find something to cling to
Before the rising tide sweeps me away.
(Not poetry.
I've tried that;
Too unstable.)
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
In the two up, two down with a tin tub to
bathe in, a cellar to put coal in,
a kitchen and pantry
can't you
be happy?
If his Lordship willed it we'd all live in pigshit,
that's Nobility for you
but
I work in the grounds of the great hall as a groom
for
sixpence a week and a small garrett room
and don't feel hard done by,
still a prison though.
I'll die in service but will need to give
a week's notice
such a shame you can't put a
poultice
on death.
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC