Sunday, January 24, 2016

Changing Urban Landscapes

Inhabitants of the city wake before light,
Indifferent to the sun’s schedule.
Their veiled desires turn industrial gears,
Lubricated by adultery, hidden vices, and beers.

Days in the factory cause nights of burden,
Attempting to fix broken parts of the family.
They perpetuate this zombies' assembly line,
One clock-in away from serving eternal time.

Though the sun is down, products are still forged
By these hands that the boss’s bankroll affords.
The chill of dusk creeps into busy streets,
Forever freezing dreams as tomorrow repeats.
- Caden Mulligan, "An Industrial Routine"


FreeThinke said...

_____________ STILLNESS _____________

No sound beyond the dropping of the leaves
Or shushing in the treetops of the stirring
In the air and periodic whirring
Soft of wings and bundling of sheaves ––

Every now and then a bird may call
Looking for or longing for his mate;
Escaping still the hunter’s dinner plate.
Scythes swish steadily as grain grown tall

Submits to delicate compelling force.
Workers silently bent to their task
Over whom hot sunshine spills its rays

Reap swiftly knowing pain could come, of course.
Later, in the afterglow they’ll bask
Dreaming foolishly of better days.

~ FreeThinke

The antidote to what ails us today lies in Antiquity. Our most severe illness as a species may lie in our restlessness ––the urge always to be somewhere where we are not. I doubt the workers in the sonnet above appreciated the beauty and serenity they had. I doubt if they were aware of it at all.

FreeThinke said...

_________ JERUSALEM _________

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!

I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

~ William Blake (1757-1827) from "Milton"

Would that a brave and brilliant visionary spirit such as Blake's acted as a motivating force once again during these dreary sterile, dehumanized, robotized times!

Always On Watch said...

To restore the dreams, spent 30 minutes walking in the woods or sitting by a burbling brook.

Snow shoveling doesn't count!

Thersites said...

I'm not sure most urbanites have the means, AoW.

Always On Watch said...

Maybe a park. No screens or devices in tow.

FreeThinke said...


Divorce yourself from everything that's "pop"
Visualize a cabin in the pines
Close by a silver lake or sparkling stream
Detached from every aspect of the grid.
Chop wood, fetch water so you may survive
Eating fresh caught fish or game you kill
Along with berries, nuts, and tasty leaves.
Carry with you a supply of books
Writing paper and a clutch of pens
Allow yourself an oil lamp for the night
Embrace austerity, and get to know
Yourself, and only what may be essential
To survival in the coming winter months.
Emulating Thoreau may provide
The antidote to hellish modern life.

~ FreeThinke

Always On Watch said...

At least for a period of respite.

FreeThinke said...

if you would live the life serene
Stay away from The Machine.*

~ FT
* The Machine Stops - E.M. Forster (1909)

Thersites said...

...he typed on the Internet... ;)