My Poetry!

Each of us humans
has a pleasure center
somewhere in our brain

It gets tickled
or stimulated
when we see an ad
for something we think
we'd like
and, then it really gets a charge
when we slap down
the payment,
and assume ownership

But, that feeling
can fade
and the pleasure center
craves something more,
another tickling,
and we go on
looking
and living

A pile of stones beside a field
of an abandoned , washed out farm
now bramble and brier its only yield.
A near deer snorts out its alarm.

A barn in collapse across the way
the forgotten victim of neglect
that once was full of life and hay
now bats are all it can collect.

Old rusted worn out rakes and plows
good now for naught but scrap
once created pastures for fat cows
discarded like a vague mishap.

My children are drowning
in plastic
and I can't seem
to stem the tide
while they're hypnotised
by bullshit
I'm dying a little
inside

I'm networking
instead of
parenting

I'm raising automatons

My children are brainwashed
with apathy
made to look 'pretty'
told what to do
what to say
and I'm ashamed
a little bit more
everyday

I'm thinking
when I should be
listening