Amerikan Kakophony © 2014 Mike Mihaljevich Sounds of Profit I can't escape the noise Seeping from apartments Enveloping me Like a contagion Infecting the quietude I had nursed How can I think poetic thoughts? What would philosophers say Of environs where crickets and Frogs are hushed By the sounds of profit?
Age of Materialism, # 3 Materialism has Become our God And to the future We shall be known as The Indifferent, The Disdainful Oblivious before all signs Of the Collapse. Nero's electronic accompanists Playing punkish cacophonies There will be no dispute About these generations Of the selfish & narcissistic No orgy of cries will arise To apologize for this Mega-idiocy of men & minds Bent on destruction Who argue like adolescents And sell ideas at garage sales To a public too weary to doubt Anxious for facile answers
Everyone in Amerika (verses #1-4) I invited everyone in Amerika To my home Much to my surprise They all showed up I showered them with gifts and dinner They took the gifts Without so much as a thank-you Fought during their repast Then left without offering to clean up Their belligerence and rudeness Upset me But I knew that it was Simply poor upbringing Or at least wanted to believe so The culture disintegrates daily & I'm a witness to a montage Of poignant lunacy which is guzzled By shameless millions
Robots in Coats & Ties, Version #34 Robots in coats & ties Purvey their lies & deceptions In the media marketplace Vying for the best packaging While consumers barter Their common sense For bits of data to be Consumed like fast food Tired tv images waft Across the nation's air-waves Wielding distorted images As passive onlookers suffer An onslaught of evil incantations Incarnated into sound & visuals Sweet words & pretty faces Meant to sell stale stuff Our modern-day heroes Saviors clothed in coats & ties False messengers of the Gods Manipulators of mortals Truly reminiscent of a Greek Comedy of tragic proportions And a very foreign policy
An Old Ritual, #2 The Indians said the White man Spoke with forked tongue Splitting truth into pieces Words sliding out of mouth Like an eel through the slime Of evil intentions Soldiers came with Great White Father Proclamations bearing Seductive gifts conveying Warm-hearted assurances Meant to pacify Indian anxiety Meant to lure Indian heads into The noose of suffocating White man ways Words worming their way Into the susceptible hearts of a People unfamiliar with Investments, profits, and greed For whom promises need not be written Or affixed with the signature of a Witness nor stamped and certified With an affidavit
Society as an Edsel Our society is an Edsel Malfunctioning Careening down a disintegrating Highway of superfluous information Under the stress and strain Of the twin Gods of materialism and status Children gaze at their parents And wonder who they are Mom, who are you? Dad, what are you? Is it any wonder they reach For symbols of alienated inhabitants Of the ghetto But our nobel-prize winning academics Just don't get it It's amazing Adults have bought the line, hook and sinker Something's wrong The roof is crumbling, tumbling down But somehow they don't notice That the pillars are cracked And so, we clutch onto each other Fasten our seat belts And race down the mountainside To what we know not
Searching for Truth (Verses # 1-3) I went searching for truth in newspapers But all I found Were the opinions of the rich Scrawled in peasant blood I went searching for Truth Leafing through Newsweek & Time Examining facts & explanations But all that stared back at me Were editorial decision-making About what could be published Without jeopardizing the myths Of the rich & powerful I went searching for truth In evening newscasts, Hoping to read In between the lines Of political apologists But all I could see/hear Were beautiful people Repeating a mantra Of rehearsed lines Scripted by others Taking home million dollar paychecks
The Bureaucrat He orders us about From the tormented Cell of his soul Lashes out at us with Sweet word-appeals To our idiocy and falseness He brings out the worst in us In his tangled mind He weaves ideas He has heard from others And, smilingly, holds meetings At which we feign attention Then walk away wringing From sleeves anxious perspiration We are as marionettes And respond accordingly Dancing on the stage of his world Where actions contradict thoughts Subject to and regulated by Rules and policies from on high Bureaucracies are to homo sapiens As assembly lines are to objects
Golly-Gosh-Gee Whiz Type of Guy He was bred To be an administrator Smooth, diplomatic, tactful, friendly He had gone to the Ronald Reagan Finishing School After attending Richard Nixon College where He studied Ethics and wrote a paper On the Reconciliation of Truth with Duplicity For which he received a B+ He was at ease in all situations Incapable of sterner emotions Stuck in boyhood, Say....about 12 years old He had a great golly-gosh-gee whiz Attitude that said it all He was at home in all situations He loved the pat on the back The pat on the butt The pat answer He agreed with the majority And convincingly so With a sincerity An amiableness That pushed him to the top Of the bureaucratic pyramid
Children of Today Children of today Slumbering in A mesmerized stupor Of evaporated Dreams Reach out for a meaning Where none exists Seeking stability In a vacuum of ideals Taught to parley Their thoughts into cliches Like vulcanized Indians They have no retort Except to report a litany Rehearsed in classrooms
Land of the Free In the land of the free There are some eighty million plus Hostages of a peculiar mind set During the day, they venture out On sorties for their daily sustenance Only to return to their Glorified cells to hide from The nocturnal offspring Of Ignorance, Karma, & Poverty In the cities, lurking in all Neighborhoods, fear is the Common equalizer Neighbors are aliens Fences, driveways demarcate properties Symbols of private realms Hiding inside houses Double and triple locked Curtains drawn even during the day Barred windows, warning systems Neighborhood watch signs Watch dogs guard possessions and lives In the land of the free & Home of the brave
Jellyfish Eyes It's all liquid to them Them with the jellyfish eyes They ogle through the ooze of their minds And sometimes tangle with Real Thoughts Not knowing what to make of them If they met Jesus They would say something like Oh yeah, he was hip But he had a big ego Yeah, his truth was real deep I mean, "I am the father" Waycool, man Then it's time for a mocha java Or some yuppie drink I don't know what the stuff is I imagine it's made to derange And rearrange brain cells (and, still, the pets of materialism are snorting and injecting goofy ideas; downloading the latest in babbleonian newage ideas into their brains and bladders and spitting and spilling it over goblets they hold like silver penises, admiringly praising their erectile structure)
The Nouveau Consumer I see it all now Children of the modern aged Industrialized, consumer-surfeited Society Grow up until 7 or 13 to become Ideal consumer junkies That mean age required by the beast Pre-ordained by the profit masters Of technology Generations bred in Narcissistic hedonism Brain-washed to enjoy The freedom to buy Virtually no struggle Yours for the grasping Unfettered indulgence Freedom become license For nonsense Unchecked, unthought buying power Today's freedom lovers are Tomorrow's consumer-lackeys Uncle Sam may one day Want you for cannon fodder But now needs you for the Marketplace You're our only hope: Buy or Die
Space Invaders I surveyed my apartment After Christmas And noted the invasion I have loss eight cubic feet of space Aliens stare back unflinchingly Anchored in terra firma A newly acquired colony From which there will be no uprooting The inanimate snicker contemptuously And eerily, suck at vital molecules of air To which I am so slavishly attached I curse them They spit back My thoughts to me In twisted forms They convey my addiction to them daily I hear their whispers during the night Reminding me of the caricature That I am That we all are: Mere appendages to things
Nothing Untouched Humans can leave Nothing untouched Meddling has become A psychic addiction With which to dance away Life in a meaningless barbarism Of mazes & dice Searching for answers In supermarkets And entertainment jungles Aspiring to simple Juvenile delights, Deliverance is sought At the hands of New Age pseudo-sages Mini-minds marveling At all things material As if to say, "That will make me happy "This will make me happy "And maybe this... "And that also.... Ad infinitum
Mikey likes it, I guess.