Poems

Do Gooders Beware

Do gooders beware. There is no good here.

Controllers of life, stable, predictable future decisions made impossible.

The new breeds scare. Only autocratical here.

Patrollers of strife, label, manipulatable, loser persuasions made irresistible.

 

The masses stare, in between iPhone snaps of someone else’s despair.

He cheats his wife, cries libel, inconceivable given his website’s babel.

Why take the time to swear, there are no rules here.

Sharpen the knife, carve the marble, the coffee table, the myth of the American fable.

 

Do go on doing good if only for your own karma.

Rack up the individual player points for the record books.

The team has lost, my friend,

A triple-double sounds fantastical, looks Youtubular, and smells a little like mixture of basil, oregano, and bloodied hamburger.

Sign me up!

But before you can unzip your sweat-stained trousers, you hear the crowd.

The scoreboard tells all.

The home crowd is on its feet, ejaculating orgasmic joy.

Your suped-up super effort has fallen short.

 

Now, I got this coupon here. Did I win? It’s printed in black and white.

I fulfilled my morning prayer. That should clear my sin. Right?

My fate is dependent on that bum?

The one who spelled it REDRUM?

Who society has given a low income?

Who could gain by losing some?

Who I’ve spent my adult life stealing from?

 

Bread and games, my friends. Distractions till the end.

 

Watch as I make your misery disappear, and reappear over there,

Under the bearded guy wiping a tear.

Pull the rug out from under him so that he falls on his rear.

Now that’s something to cheer.

I’m buying, order yourself a beer.

Just be sure to vote me Man of the Year.

 

There is no good here.