Human Doing

The hindrance of one’s natural affairs

Sparks the inevitability of heartache.

And any effort to suspend this kind of misery

Is a downward spiral of emotional wake.

Where success is marked by capital accumulation,

We all must take the same shallow path.

Some are cast off by means of minor discrepancies

And few emerge victoriously from the aftermath.

To shed the rotting integument

That suffocates and shrivels all empathy

Is the option that best disposes the rest

Of the poisonous orthodoxies here presently.

We fit our grand title no longer

As our one existential question dissolves

Among the mayhem and mischief we cause

To earn a buck rather than evolve.