structures

more than ever,
it’s not the falsified structures
built around us.
the little niches find ways
to host the downtrodden.

the ground swells with
corporate sponsored seedlings
to find life amongst the
granite and concrete.

the definitions are so
dangerous.
people!

who would have thought
that we would seek reference
outside of lifting skirts
to know ourselves.

the fathers who face the odds
of a societal construction of
masculine provision
each time they enslave themselves,
the modern ball and chain
politely presented as a 2 piece
and a stunningly original tie.

the same homeless, or poor,
or either, man,
who fails to ride this bus
marches alongside.
what a metaphor, this
physical manifestation
of class struggle.

the one portrayed as non-existent
in a world of structures.
oh, the sheer hypocrisy.

the same world building slums
into solitudes
for the affluent,
those capable of using tinted glass
and granite countertops
to blind themselves from
the street vermin below.

the mothers to be, who
spend more time each week
preparing an external visage
that impossibly measures
to a psychopathic orientation
of what natural beauty and
attraction should be.

we divide, a population fearful of math,
we separate and hierarchically build
structures to tier those
otherwise loving entities
away from us.

people!
oh, the post-modernists must
resent our ever complicating fortitudinal resistance
to oneness.
they must drink copiously
in the dankest of social reclusiveness.

to rid themselves of their
fearing minds of consciousness
that it really is all going to plan,
as anarchistically and stunningly original as
that may be.

the question remains.
now, more than ever,
are we building dynamite,
are we lining those support beams,
and are we planning with our wilful ignorance,
an incredible destruction?
and if not,
should we?

or simply, is it enough to
persist in this era
where time is structure
that builds new bridges
for us to cross?