this tragedy is almost comic if it weren’t so sad

Some great mind conceived in moments
self-obsessed upon creative genius
the story which now unfolds moment by moment
around us. We all
from the chattering masses of giggling girls
adorned with glittered cosmetics,
cosmopolitan branded attire, handbags and clutches
and fingernails
to the brash and brazen boys
with wooden smiles and plastic, remote controlled
personalities
we all bounce and bound off walls in attempt
to wrap mind around the big picture
to little avail. We cannot see
the forest entire
in all the clutter, noise and business.
The message is lost amidst the crossfire
of orders given, driven, shouted and whispered
with varying degrees of urgency.
The point is not here, not present in this chaos.
One might feel half-compelled
to lament to loss of meaning
in a fragrant, expensively eye-catching
mushroom cloud
that mars the landscape of modern art.
Too busy comparing
summer vacations in Vietnam and
winter trips to Vegas,
cellular phones and websites and stylists
or expressing opinions on the artistic merit
of the series finale
– which was, of course,
the most important piece of fiction
ever captured on screen and will
no doubt live on for eternity.
We won’t bother shedding tears for this
latest lame horse
saddles and whipped and loosed
from the gates of Hollywood
to batter itself against track and fence
to gain praise and favour,
we won’t waste worry or care for the car wreck,
loud and destructive it may be,
for we know that soon the cacophony will cease,
the horse will die,
the wreck will be cleared and
we can go about our lives
until the next catastrophe goes to camera.

Published by bernardsbarnes

Writer. Artist. Performer. A little boy dreaming of the stars.

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