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by author

Things Fall Apart

John Brodix Merryman Jr.
Jun 17 · 1 min read

The center cannot hold

What is this drunken, shrunken leviathan, staggering from one mishap to the next? Its blood and force siphoned off, as it grabs for more. Standing astride the world in a feverish delirium.

It knows only growth in a circular, cyclical world, running faster, but going nowhere. Its simulated, stimulated vision rockets to the stars, as its currency turns to confetti. The monetary medium becoming the message all strive for, but few attain. Public debt backing private wealth in a nefarious feedback.

Greed is good having long surpassed doing for others, or the country.

Yet these all knowing fools think they have gained control, when government is reduced to a trough. While in truth they are just the fattest of the hogs.

Authority assuming control by speaking forcefully, but senselessly and ostracizing any who deviate.

In time its energy will be squandered, the vultures will feast, then those from the edges will come in to chew on the bones.

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

Acknowledgements to Yeats


where the future is written