A word about Millennials

Millennial Horizons

The big doors of the country
Of my youth are closing
I can feel the decades slip away
With student debt, temporary job

Wandering, I’m amazed for millennials
Who thrive on surviving
And must market themselves
As if the world was filled with opportunities

I saw half my friends have children
And get divorced, before I even
Knew what it was to settle down
There were no role-models, only

The feeling that the future was
Coming faster than we could understand.

O’ it’s Broken this Society

O’ it’s Broken this Society

O’ what is the sound of love aborted?
Does it hum, drum, thrill the ear
For a lifetime of waiting

Like in countries where freedom
Does not exist, where
There is no protection of law for the poor?
O’ what is the light so flush and clear
Does it color the distance bright

Like a star, or an angel of morning
Shatter the usual manoeuvres of morning, warnings?
O’ how do the scarlet soldiers fare?

Who have not life, not love, not house or cheer
They have no future, well, my dear
Only the sun as their weapon
Only the promise of tomorrow as their idol
With so cunning and misfortunate, opportunity,

O’ we have no fields to farm, anymore,
Or mothers and fathers, they have died
Before society became too ill, O’ what of the

Sad dark years to come, I can feel it
Impossible to prepare for the world that is coming
O’ what is the sound of hope departing?
Does it hum, drum, flash before our eyes
Does it dwindle, kneel, down to our last savings

Until we have to sell even, our
Most prized possessions, our dignity.

S l a v e r y to a Fake Future Reality #amwriting #revolution #policestate #matrix

S l a v e r y to a Fake Future Reality

What of the study of realism
In a world becoming simulative
How can we tempt the children
With reality, when they are lost
In augmented virtuality?

An angel’s lips to kiss, we think,
But not a girl by their side
No flower-bells to haunt

Only designer babies I am afraid
Who are the masters of machines
More intelligent than them
What of the future, when
Revolution will be improbable, impossible

For the elite will be the state
And democracy will all-trodden blink
For men who as youth know they

Will never own a job or be possessed
By the kind of value their grandparents
Took for granted, is this real then?
This economy where a few profit
For the sacrifice of the many

Where every nation is in debt
And every house is over-priced
What of the study of realism

It has become a lost art
And loveliest of art and poetry
Goes unseen, unheard and unread.

Montreal, The Ruined City

These cities they smell
Of advertisement, new degrees
Of invasions of privacy
The flashing lights

Do not complete me
The anonymous crowds
Do not seem reasonable
These cities they

Have forgotten how to smile
I am alone in them
While surrounded by
People on their mobile outlets

Each connected to their
Private reality, which is artificial
They click ‘like’ on an
Imaginary event, a poor distraction

For living, and I realize
I am impoverished socially by this
The augmented reality is
Digital, and I could be anywhere

But do I want to be here?
In a culture, that refuses
To speak the common tongue
English, in a city with a poor economy

These cities they seem to be
Getting more impoverished
As the decades celebrate
Cheap technological progress
And the provincial politics
Of the human condition continues.

Disinherited Europe

To Spain, Greece, France and Italy These decades are birds of passage The years overwhelm with Information, change, economy instability I hear the beat of the future Hang low in the dewy atmosphere With a beat of glowing snow I …