Blame’s Impermanence

From where does such come?

Paths of growth,
molecule by molecule,
osmosis bringing some,
birth bringing many.

All perform their purpose.
The leaf.
The berry.
The evolved creature.
Man.

Yet unknown to most,
forces concealed
by nature,
by technology,
by deceit,
tempt the dangerous walk
upon ice too thin to trust.

Nature warns us,
as technology but implores us,
all while narcissistic gluttony takes aim,
ignoring any or all boundaries.

Like a flame unquenched,
envy and desire find oxygen
amidst our unbridled obsessions.

Once love's caress,
now but duplicitous habit,
learned fear feasts upon the screams
contained within.

If I can't have it,
you can't either.
Grown up children trapped
by fantasy-imbued expectations.

Clothes.
Nips.
Tucks.
Lifts.
Implants.
Botoxification.
And lest we forget,
Platinum and Black cards.

Yet distinct from unlimited plastic,
or yellow, red and blue capsules in one’s pocket,
the attendant poisonous infliction on one's mind
remains as an open wound,
where malice hides,
waits,
gently revs its engine,
then creeps until,
while sentience sleeps
and vulnerability lies naked,
opportunism races.

Ah, veneers so crafty,
such clever disguises
for our less-than-perfect incisors,
hidden by practiced thin lips of cunning and obsession,
now surge into a needle-generated kiss-kiss.

Enhancements all
to satiate visceral appetites,
regardless of cost or impact.

And if reality takes its time,
there are always the awaiting tabloids
to feed upon and nurture further abandonment.

How enticing
their four-color purpose
promoting predatory peep-shows,
glorifying weaknesses and mistakes,
venality in disguise
awaiting the pathetic of our species,
especially at check-out stands
that place where reading takes place,
where front-page aliens mirror reality for many.

And yet...

Some of us choose to believe
breath remains in abundance to think, to do,
to be something beyond this acidic veneer,
something akin to the beginning,
when life was Nature's innocent gift,
when a baby's need was to rejoice,
not grow up to hate, regret, or doubt its future.