Our Painted Dead

deviant art by noloben


Our Painted Dead

First, consider Eichmann’s pension
plan, the student loan debt with which we saddle
our literate few that keeps them treading
water until they’ve forgotten the fire
of reform. Notice the bureaucracy of complaint, the con
fusion of necessary/not necessary. The planned
obsolescence of education. Notice the respect
for long-term incompetence versus in
novation. The European workday. The circadian
rhythms of the body and the effects these have
on productivity. Notice the stress of the caged
rat. The ever-looking-towards-tomorrow
and the sudden greed of today.

Ask: what do we value? Do we value? When
we see Rebecca on the road, do we let her
pass? When she says, “I know who you are,” do we
ignore her scratching at the bolted door
and simply clean up the mess on the porch
in the morning?

Consider the acceptance of the averted eye. The
condoning of noise. The lowered standards
we all are meant to praise. Notice the lack of respect
for honesty. The disappearing work ethic.
The inundation of mediocrity.
Ask: if I pay $20 for a pair of shoes
which last 2 months, am I saving money? Is saving
money the final consideration, even?
Ask: who made these shoes? Ask: how
are shoes made? In a similar manner,
how am I made and unmade, and likewise
the world around me.

Consider the Paranthropus’ quarter-sized molar
and where it got him. The elongated fingers
of the Australopithecus. Our kin. Our own
fingers, straight and long, our own teeth,
smaller, yes, but interspersed with eyeteeth, incisors.
Ask: what do I eat? And what does that make me?
Ask: am I born all I’ll be? Or shall I choose?


C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on Hamilton Stone Review