Tail of the Worm

Spin Doctor ~ Philip Brent
Spin Doctor ~ Philip Brent

Tail of the Worm

Beneath the surface of the shadow
Live the voices
Who listen to the voices
Ordinary people
Acting in extraordinary ways
An unexamined life,
ancient wisdom cautions
Is not worth living
Or is it
An uncommitted life denies scrutiny
To fully live
Requires a willingness to pay
Pay a price, bear a burden, be brave
Risk small deaths
Profit, position, status
Be invisible, when visibility means
Escape to fun and fantasy
Superficial stimulation
Survival of the slickest

Fly in the face of social norms
Flaunt convention,
Unquestioned actions
Strive to learn
What has always been
Is not
What always must be
Risk reputation, risk dignity
Risk safety, risk death, risk life
Tell the truth, your truth
Bear witness to what you believe
Bare your teeth to derision, division
Supposition, superstition
Deny the mask, spells, wards
The idols to mammon
The misanthropes and misers
Refuse to be trampled
By the jackboots of Ares
Stand up to thugs and thieves

Unlearn the curse of prejudice
Perpetuated lies tell us
The poorest, the weakest
Deserve their fate
Revulsion and hate
Piled upon them like rotting garbage
Deny the privileged few this calumny
This false assumption
That all the cabbage, by right
Is theirs, everything they touch
Turns to gold
While what you touch
Turns to shit
In your grasp
Rise up, rise up, rise up
Stand firm against the power
The powers that be
The financial, industrial, military
Not of what is
Or what has always been
But what we are taught must be

Mindless, maddening
Manufactured mediocrity
A state of denial state of mind
Pretending, posturing, preparing
For when we become
But rarely are
Wealthy, powerful
Bold and beautiful, beyond elite
Beyond belief, so brief
Less time than an electron’s revolution
No solution
Life’s finished, if not complete
Misbegotten, obviated
History harsh master, mistress
All failure and triumph lost
Name forgotten, deeds unknown
Forever alone
The worms of time
Taste victory
Your demise
Vanished feats
Their constant feast

Bugs and beetles
Worms and germs
Discover no difference
Partake impartially
No loathing or love
What has been above
Transmogrified, transubstantiated
Into the below
The loamy soil
Our ground of being
Beginning, being and becoming
No matter
Not fame, belief
Silver spoon or on relief
Not race, sex, orientation
Neither time, place nor nation
How high or low our station
Anyone living now
Generations dead and gone
Long forgotten

Despite any airs assumed
Wealth accrued or inherited
Valorous victories, disastrous defeats
Whether saint, slave or sinner
Beggar, bigot, bastard
Or something’s dinner
No arguments
No miracles
Will change our fate
List all your reasons
Excuses, justifications
Your angst, your weapons
Your love and hope
Your nooses and recriminations
No matter
How high we rise or reach
How low we fall or stoop
We all begin and end
The same
Nothing but worm poop

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:


Philip Brent Digital Art
Philip Brent Digital Art and Photography

Brent Harris Fine Art
Brent Harris Fine Art

Vida Voices

Scriggler TPM

The Extra Mile
Art, shirts and other gift items

Pacifica, CA 94044

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