“Screaming into a plastic bag”

“Screaming into a plastic bag”

Muffled are the sounds that utter from lips when spoken in a plea for understanding.

Drowned out by the rivers of apathy, do all cries for compassion fade off into oblivion.

Bound from head to toe in Saran Wrap, unable to breathe or hear our own words, we bellow in silence.

In living “neo-sarcophagi” as it were, already withering to dust from the heart, inside out.

From our helpless encasement, all manner of truths are so easily discernible.

An imbalance between greed and morality, a dissolution of the righteous all around us.

An agony which consumes indiscriminately, unceasingly suffocating all into submissive lethargy.

A collective fear to act in the face of undeniable reality, making us sightless.

Scream, we may, to an Earth encrusted in a profane, candy coated shell of ecological waste.

Shouting in futility at the silicone people, searching for a shred of substance within.

Hollow, pseudo human beings all fluttering about in a pointless ego dance encircle and smother us.

The sycophantic, idol worshiping and finance enchanted populace, deaf to all we utter.

Without a sympathetic tear, does diversity slip from existence by the hundreds each day.

With no alteration in global philosophy, does the ocean expanse form the sludge of gelatinous plastic soup.

Not one single gram of pity is left for all life, as the jungles and forests give way to barren desert.

The sewage and disgust all adding spice to the flavor of carbon passing over our tongues to our fragile innards.

In the wake of unpardonable mass manipulation, even the iconic have sunk beneath the waves of despair.

As their pockets become lined, mouths overflow with induced or imposed political refuse.

Leaders who fit snugly from the backside onto arms of puppeteers driven by insatiable consumption.

Corporate toxicity on a crusade to stamp out hope amid a world filled with corruption and fallacy.

We are dead slaves, enshrouded, entombed in a dreadful sense of seclusion and obedience.

The veil of isolation felled over us becomes an insufferably hellish and never-ending taunt.

For those who have eyes which peer through illusion, can never rest, never cease.

Will the resurrection of purpose and love find its way back to my race before the last pathetic exhale?

Each day I pray to the true universal father, please give my brothers and sisters the strength to fight.

I beg that you arm them with the spirit to defend our mother, the great living sphere, which cradles us.

I appeal to your charity, let the shroud of lies fall so that they may collectively witness what we already know.

For it is only truth that slaves can indeed revolt and reclaim, in the name of honor.

Anthony Damiano
President of AELLA

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