The Zombies Beehive

I can’t tell the difference sometimes between a nightmare and the things I see. Things like reality TV for instance, dramas instantly created for Prime Time, prana dissipated in anger and hate, the state of the common mentality a brutality of directed fate. Courses chosen along the trajectory of pain, the stains of lame choices coloring future’s stilled voices. There’s nothing that’s sacred anymore, acres of desolate landscapes, the paucity of true amour. It’s all for the ratings and the dollars, home-girls in Atlanta hollering while housewives of Beverly Hills style the most recent outfits from Rodeo Drive, it’s a Zombie’s Beehive, the drones zoning out while the sky’s falling beyond a doubt, the Queens bloviate and bombast as their subjects deviate from the true path.

Everything is relative, nothing is absolute, good is expressed in shades of grey while everyone jumps without parachutes, the ground far below, safety a myth, giving their all for the show, then afterwards pleading the fifth. Wasn’t me becomes the refrain, I wasn’t there, what are y’all staring at, whassup, you got beef? The inevitable gasps of disbelief, the thieves of souls grasping ignorance’s scrolls, the goal seeming to be the whole nine yards of success, as defined by the quote unquote best, those who’ve passed the mandatory psychopathic test.

Don’t get kicked off the island, lie and scheme to by, the hardest heart gets the fastest start, gets the best parts, gets the highest scores on the charts. Don’t be the biggest loser, the Bachelor is the best chooser, doesn’t matter the marriages don’t last and the weight comes back fast. Class is so past generations, the veneration of knowledge not even for those who go to college and wisdom? That’s for old folks and those New Age freaks, steeped in weirdo lore and bleak outlooks of doom and gloom. The lies that they tell on TV are all people really need, because everybody lives in fantasy worlds anyway, their stays a choice, the myriad ways to escape reality the voice of disengagement, a rejoicing in perceptive banality and cultural minutia.

Voting in absentia the masses speak, the peak of consciousness raised, but minus the will to seek higher and even further afield, to spark their own inner fire, daring the void until their souls are truly healed. The Queen Bee revealed, the last honeycombs of wisdom unsealed. Perhaps it’s really going to take a total end to this world, to finally see the ripples of Divinity’s flag unfurled. An Armageddon event, a Zombie Apocalypse of pent-up need spent in an orgiastic conflagration of energy, an adiabatic catalytic of pyroclastics, fiery and chthonic, Iku’s fell tonic a breath ectoplastic. More simply imparted, hell on Earth, hell, it’s already started. Just check out the TV and take what is seen to heart.


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