MINUTIAE

lost in minutiae
can't see the wood for the trees
the process of thought control
it doesn't want us to make connections
or join up the dots
today's headlines are just yesterday's headlines with the names changed
nixon replaced by clinton
clinton replaced by bush
bush replaced by mrs clinton?
serbia substituted for vietnam
iraq substituted for serbia
you get the idea
bulletins recycled
no-personality politics
cabinets reshuffled in an endless game of cards
boardroom shennanigans
revolving doors
the same old faces coming in and out
bribery
corruption
fraud
embezzlement
an endless parade of besuited middle-aged men
beseiged by gaggles of reporters
eyes to the ground
crying tears of 'remorse' before the cameras
led away down dark corridors
this is where they want you
those devils got you by the balls
eyes focused on the insignificant little details
missing the bigger picture
setting up false dichotomies
ends of histories
communism versus capitalism
never getting to grips with the complexities
missing the point
making us feel stupid
discouraged
no wonder we switch off
put the kettle on for another cup of tea
grab another capuccino
disengage
disenfranchise
we are controlled
manipulated
brainwashed
we have become mass-produced factory clones
pressed out of our moulds
we jump to the crack of the slavemaster's whip
conform to the expectations of our greaters and betters
look at all those free newspapers piled up outside train stations
ever wondered why they're free, folks?
cos we're the product that's being sold to the advertisers, baby!
adverts and commercials with news and 'entertainment' in the spaces
maybe we should call the news 'the olds'
the machine operators don't want us to delight in the simple pleasures
which interfere with their well-oiled mechanism
these puppeteers want to sell you their 400 gigabyte hard drives
their skin cream
the latest fuel-guzzling urban road monster
perish the thought of noticing the cool morning air on your face
revelling in a new day shining with bright invention
admiring the dreamy dawn skies
the simple joy of feeling rough tree bark beneath your fingers
(why not pulp it and make it into free newspapers
hey - let's consolidate this asphalt eden?)
all this is heresy
daydreaming
pie in the sky
an eccentric distraction from the real agenda
the sports reports
the traffic bulletins
the weather updates
the opium of the masses
hot off the press
burning in our fingers
then smoking away into thin air
leaving us feeling and knowing what?
mental cold turkey?
we let ourselves be sold down the river
oh how fireseed long for quiet reflection
how fireseed grapple with the urge to rip out the speakers
to rid himself of the acoustic din
the jingles
the commercials
the smiling squeaky-clean mum and dad
the two adorable kids
the endless trivia
the bane of fireseed's existence
the bright curiosity of the child in me is crushed
introspection, self-sufficiency and resourcefulness are not required
constant mental interruption
harassment of the longer term thought processes
a new meaning to the term 'sensory deprivation'
surely the art of living must be to see through the smokescreen
to keep searching for the simple truth
which sweeps away the dust and clutter
like a cool summer breeze
leaving the desk of the study polished and gleaming