Pause and wonder

Have you ever stopped mid-stride

And caught yourself looking out at the world

Silently asking what this crazy place is all about

And how so many people

Pass on through 

Day-by-day

Leaping onto the next subway ride

To go into some crammed cubicle or dreary office space.

Does it puzzle you too,

That so many people wilfully float with the stream

And convince themselves that they are helping humanity by pulling on a blazer and slipping into a pair of polished shoes

That selling shares and following stock markets is more than a mere pawn game

‘Cause sometimes I stop and wonder how so many hands are put to silly typewriting and selling deals for things that no one needs

Just to keep the money circulating,

Just to keep the buildings busy.

It’s not about the people or equal distribution 

But it’s been happening this way for so long,

And some people are cashing in,

Those people are at the top of the board,

So the system will keep pumping out more starved men and lost souls

for as long as the printing machines keep churning out more green and gold.

I cannot help it, that to see such needless plights, sometimes stops me in my tracks

In the middle of crowded streets at all hours of the day, 

There are so many faces so determined to keep on fleet,

No time to stop and wonder, nor question where they are, no time for mischeavous fun, or to stick it to the man 

Caught up in feeding the system,

And the fear of losing the illusion of the upper hand,

That the beauty of their surroundings,

 The friendships and the losses, 

The sumptuous feasts and crisp clean clothes 

are passed off as given pieces of the beast.

So if such luxuries are unacknowldged how about those sitting by the road, or the kids being cornered in that laneway over a stolen chocolate bar,

For the greatest crimes of the world are passed through a suited up, clean shaven feeding chain

2 thoughts on “Pause and wonder

  1. elizabeth hodson

    This is pretty black albeit true. Your best are somehow the worst thoughts. Perhaps happiness doesn’t translate to art anymore than it does to media of interest to others. So many good but dark metaphors.

    Like

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