The Box Dwellers

 

Reserved or repressed, preserved or conserved

are those who inhabit their little lunch boxes

as mindless and thoughtless zombies

with no appetite, no initiative, the living dead

Dull witted as croaking frogs

sitting, farting with bleary eyes they sit agape

professional inert spectators paid with dust

as a minority take flight as adventurous doves

A landscape of boxes and comfort zones

who think democracy is a two party state

duped by the enlightened ideas of corporate propoganda

Daily papers feed their sparse appetites

regarded as the truth in gospel form

Dead before being born and dead again

yet their apathy has the space of runways

where the ambitious and thinking few propel

themselves to the outer reaches of space

With minds full of ideas as inventive as Einstein

with a constant flow of pure refined energy

It passes the dull as clouds on a dark night

Humanity seeks only its padded furniture

supermarket clothing as they shuffle about

like a rudderless breed

Saved only by the few who think, yes think 

but their thoughts often amount to nought

A kick up the proverbial, for the box dwellers

those fearful whose cry is let it all pass by

Wake up discover the greatest gem

original thought who can tell

Live this life on the edge, the consequences are tepid

Throw me in a cell where I might die

but I go with no luggage, no box only a free

and open spirit to ride