This My Soul Knows Very Well

Juggling eccentricities

Bound by cords to current

Ensuring indulgences stay current.

Swimming upstream;

An uphill battle

For fear of missing out

Of an inconceivable pursuit

Of inadequate expectations.

A world gone from dial up

To dialed out;

Form hard bound

To loose-leaf;

From hard fact

To belief.

Are we bound

By gossamer cords when trivial becomes our Right

And Caesar provides his circuses

For the thirsty soul?

There’s a sign reading:

“Please, don’t feed the bears”

And we, like wildlife, gorge unaware,

Choosing all we want

Over all we need.

Its veiled illusion

When every want is streaming,

Streaming,

While all the while drowning, screaming.

When Friday’s release

Brings more excitement

Than Sunday’s relief.

How does the cross fare

With vision impaired?

Just give me these new chains

I’m done with my old ways

I don’t care about justice

I’d rather be entertained.

I don’t care about deep truth

Or freedom’s song

I’ve got a sweet tooth

And this life owes me one.

We don’t need drugs

With Netflix,

Our quick fix,

Our new pill,

Our sweet release.

Noble words of condemnation

With fingers on triggers

And hearts yearning for distraction;

Subtle deceptions,

Hollow consolation

To burdened souls

On weary roads.

Of this my soul knows very well.

Intricate addiction

Insidious design

Illusion to maintain---

A media throne

Inspires a faulty crown

Placing pleasure before your good.

Infections selfishness

Mammon’s little cousin

Indwelling poison

Placed before my brother.

Satanic perversion

Clothed as cheap amusement;

Artistic endeavors

God-lit and beautiful;

Abhorrently tortured; twisted;

A wasteland from Ithilien’s dreams;

Into a pacifying concoction

That places another’s joy

At the foot of my whims.

Of this, this my soul knows

Very well.

Immediate extradition

Requires explicit examination;

A denial of self,

A new emancipation

From the hoodoos of YouTube

And the foolish pursuit of wealth

As the means to remain entertained

Which undermines all else.

It requires deep thoughts

In a darkened room, alone

And a willingness

To put other’s merriment

Before your own.

It requires a severe disconnection

A rending of bone;

A snapping of conceit;

A spiritual insurrection.

Ultimately --- death

For we cannot sustain it

We cannot placate it

This god of entertainment.

Who, oh Lord, can save us?

From a life of vapid searching

Of constant unfulfillment

Of want

Of longing

Of epic disappointment.

That is no life;

No American dream

Though in the half-light of addiction

Sweet it seems.

What hope?

No repeats

Only rebirth.

A quest for pleasure laid upon the altar of stone.

Life anew

For God and neighbor alone.

No half measures.

No Baals of health or wealth.

For idols cannot stand

Against a crucified self.

Of this my soul knows very well.