Comfort Uber Alles

OrYour Dollar Is Your Vote
I Still Buy Plastic

Bring it on, he cries!

Fell the trees

Divert the rivers

Mine the ore

It’s the mercy

Of the guillotine

Sharp, but quick.

I like to sing

I like to look up

The angels are so close now

The effluent is up to my ankles

This is how I hide.

Don’t we all?

To curl up in a cozy ball

With my Internet and comfort food

Maybe Burtynsky will photograph

My body next

My face practically falls off

The front of my skull with

The weight of ignored sadness

When I’m too tired to hold up

A smile anymore.

My lament rings out

In my echo chamber

Yet my wallet still opens

For convienience

For plastics

Each dollar, a vote.

My words don’t match my actions

Until I can do that I’m part of

The problem.

Yet for all the railing against humanity

This I think is misplaced

For our nature is this. Even those who see

Are also against nature,

So what?

So what hope?

Is there any path

Save mass extinction?

Should we let the next pandemic

Do it’s job and run it’s course?

Surely she could shake us off

Even now, even when it’s worse

She’s done it before. Life is the

Reward of life

So why are we here anyway?

Can we wake up to what this


Experiment is, before we foul

Our earthly Petri dish?

The best I can do is pretend

That there might be some miraculous

way to balance *all* this

And dare not remember

What lies beyond…


For the prompt at earthweal


6 thoughts on “Comfort Uber Alles

  1. Hard hitting and so powerful, Eric. I especially resonate with the front of the skull with the weight of ignored sadness. I feel that sadness all the time now. All I can see ahead are more and more climate crises, while politicians keep glibly side-stepping the glaring obvious, in order to stay in power. Sigh. I’m afraid my challenge has depressed us all.


  2. Maybe we now observe the limits of sentience in animals still sensitized to their comfort zones — “comfort uber alley” trumps “save the world” any fucking day now. The internet is a mass distraction/convenience machine, resulting in a world perpetually out of focus except for the boobies. Your Burtynsky selfie is one of the rawest coals of honesty I’ve read recently in this burning age.


  3. “My words don’t match my actions. Until I can do that I’m part of the problem.”
    – Recognizing the distance between words and actions is important, for the sake of building self-integrity. This is where real change begins.


  4. My face practically falls off

    The front of my skull with

    The weight of ignored sadness

    When I’m too tired to hold up

    A smile anymore.

    This is a great image, eloquent and inventive despair! But hey we are still creating language!


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