#80 ~ Beaten into Apathy

They are the dispossessed, the marginalised, unable to even fantasize

about what it’s like to be me.

I am a concept, an idea, elusive like the celestial spheres

that scald their star-gazing eyes as they ask the Universe why.

Why is it so easy to be demonized, patronised excluded into stylised


The scum of the earth, in print we defecate over any sense of worth

they cling to with illiterate fingers.

Yes we have the liberty of the freedom of choice.

To choose to be or not to be.

But they are placed in a cardboard box, stained with the remains from the rubbish drop,

the stench curling our civilised noses, as we turn away scornfully to smell the roses

of our tinted window-world.

Ignored, nameless, mocked and set apart as contagious

like a drunkard who doesn’t know his own strength

we pulverize them into emptiness.

We smack all sense of self-respect

fly-kick the embryo of discontent

into a premature birth

fuelled by rage, hate, the sense of being a mistake.

Like the remains of the amniotic sac

I make it quite clear they are not part of the pack

called ‘Society.’

So, at last, they are beaten down without the sheen or value of gilded leaves

into a pervasive, persuasive and most importantly voracious

sense of relentless apathy.

[Inspired by Plan B’s Ill Manors and his subsequent TedLecture and Interview]

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One thought on “#80 ~ Beaten into Apathy

  1. T says:

    YES GIRL!! this poem goes in and perfect draw on the inspiration. Definitely needs to be recorded as a spoken word.

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