|Al Cheves' Installation at the San Francisco Art Commission Gallery|
Monday, September 15, 2014
I Wouldn't Have Called Anyhow
Although I Wouldn't Have Called Anyhow
(It brought me a kind of sadness to hear
Your number is blocked, your Channel's not Clear),
No wrinkle of concern mars my botoxed brow.
An upgrade, a new phone, or new IOS
(And bigger screen, as you fell for the myth
Of more throughput, from a bigger bandwidth?)
Answering the sales rep with Oh my, oh yes.
Life's edges all smoothed, it's contours sanded
It's entryways with luscious colors appointed
The way's made easy if you're among the anointed,
Your water's all bottled and your clothing is branded.
Taking Internet selfies, making Facebook friends
While ads promise glamor and a life full of fun.
All without risk, simply pay out this sum
'Cause it's only the fools that meet bad ends.
Climb in! jump on! Buy into zoomzoom,
Get out of your doldrums and join the race
Hold hands with the avatars of frantic pace
Just ignore those naggings of Doctor Doom.
“It's all good”, when life's rides are chauffeured
And all your conversations streak through the air
in electro-magnetic waves that frazzle your hair
So you forget your job's been down-sized and gophered.
Chutes and Ladders, in cahoots with razors;
Sliding, gliding one giddily rides,
Laughing and gasping 'til at the end rasping
You see ragged teeth and the Lawman's tasers.
Like a trip on Muni or a bike ride in traffic,
An internet conversation that bursts into Flame.
The everyday anyday that turns into doomsday,
at the blink of an eye or the click of your Bic.
Like auto exhaust or second-hand smoke
It's only so long before life's consequences
Seep over or under our shoddily-built fences
And start to impact the simplest of folk.
Economic Energetic and Environmental
Our leaders corral into separate spaces,
But everything entwines and interlaces
Stop treating our Home as though it's a rental.
As one more ice shelf calves off from Greenland
And a Cyclone or two blow over Hawaii,
All we can do is wonder more, How we
Changed from a nice one into a meanland.
Our throw-away lives leaving trash disregarded
And islands of plastic suddenly appear
Seen swirling from space in the Northwest Gyre,
As form follows function, and then is discarded.
But sentinels stand, prophetic in silence
Like on that remote island called Easter,
Rapa nui from unplumbed depths doth bestir
Nightmares of humanity gone mad with violence.
But as matters keep going from worse onto worser,
We watch “Breaking Bad” episodes that melt human bones
And hyper-kill videos like “Game of Thrones”
Where murder is fun: execution by cursor.
Color and darkness in juxtaposition,
Standing apart and refusing to mingle,
They shoot up ones spine an ominous tingle
As existence turns into mere huckster's perdition.
The bright colors now seem just blinding distraction
Dazzling our over-strained eyes with their glare,
'til we take all that's offered with nary a care.
Too enervated now to take any action.
Ripped, sawed, and rickshawed, we're trapped in this matrix,
Sanded, dis-banded and permanent pressed,
Jet-lagged and sand-bagged and constantly stressed,
With addictions and fictions and sexual gay tricks
Lurking and smirking 'cause “Life's just a beach”.
Posted by Robert Lowrey at 3:07 PM