Lotus Gait

I have this recurring nightmare: Flailing pigeon, her broken feet Frozen solid to the freezing pavement. I turn away as if I do not see. I have this childhood memory Of my old man screaming from the driver's seat To turn away from an unfolding horror, But he could not undo what I had seen. We never spoke of it again. Two more hapless citizens of The new post-traumatic stress worldwide disorder. A stockholm syndrome fifth estate, Desperate to batten down the mounting horrors And shuffle on in a global lotus gait. Content to marinate in the plasma glow of the Home entertainment prisons we Commune before like dime-store shrines. Are these but votive lives? It's a strangled, twisted truss That shores-up each of us. Anything to dull the pain Of a splintered lotus gait. As for me a filigree of psychic police tape Tends to cordon-off the darker scenes. But the wandering mind stumbles through it And relives them all eventually. Pries open wide your eyes and shines a painful light On the guilt, the fear, the shame. The courage never came From the plasma glow of the Home entertainment prisons we Cling to like dime-store shrines. Are these but votive lives? Conservative at heart. A conformist from the start. A stockholm syndrome fifth estate. A staggering lotus gait. It's a strangled, twisted truss That shores-up each of us. Anything to dull the pain Of a self-inflicted, crippling lotus gait. --- Lotus Gait - Propagandhi