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The Apathy of Optimism

Let's say that you have been fired
From your job after working there
For something like 15 years.
Let's say that,
Despite outsourcing and business mergers
And the synesthesia of new corporate marketing strategies,
It is a result of your attitude.

Have you ever considered that
You exist to feed others full of positive vibrations,
And glutinously so—
We can no longer afford to allow
The tempestuous climate change
Of social thought
Clamber, clamor, whatever
Over the barriers we protect
Our financial state with.
If you smile, exuding the morality
(That We would like you to have
) There would be no reason
Why

The Invisible Hand

Could not correct the economy
By way of correcting our behavior.

Deify the market,
The God of the Capital age—
Fear not the crumbling ruins
Of the Roman Empire,
Or the Greek Empire,
Or Macedonia,
Or Egypt,
Or whoever else
Was decimated by the erosive winds
Of class inequality and unnecessary suffering.
There is purpose
To your disgruntled, tumultuous existence—
It is to smooth the crags
That tear at your soul
And to be quiet,
To focus
On obeying our solutions
While we ignore your ideas.
(God loves you
(He guarantees a heave
(That should calm you
(Because you
(Can't help but feel alone
(And worthless
(And alienated—
Anal retentive for no reason other than to serve
An abstract interest that means nothing to you)
A simulation can save you.
Let the Invisible Hand guide you,
Market God wants to make the pagan rituals
Full of sacrifice and fiber-optic trees,
And pragmatic distantiation—
Hedonistic Jesus
Asks you to purchase
Gifts to save
Your Lord,
The Holy Industry
Of accumulated wealth.

(‘Smile though your heart is breaking
If you are laid off,
Adjust your attitude
And spend more money
Because only through that glorious gem,
The golden Apathy of Optimism,
Can our future sparkle in the darkness,
Can our hope resurrect itself—
Through incantations
Of thoughtful ignorance
And misinformation.
Let the lies become truth,
And believe them—
Simulation can be reality;
Though artificial,
Its emotions need not be
Fake.

Let's say you are homeless, living in the streets,
Your Armani suits tattering into wash-cloths
And ascetic class robes,
Your clean-shaven face
Graying in its curvature,
Stubbles puncturing the mirror
Image you imagined
Of your God,
Your Father,
Your Holy Ghost of Sustainability
And Fashion.
Let's say your hair becomes a nest
For parasitic insects that jump from your shoulders
And into the scalp of others
For the sake of cleaner conditions
And a higher yield of blood-borne profits—
For pathogenic economics.
Let's say
Your wife leaves you and kicks you out of your house,
The one you paid for by working all day, every day,
Ignoring your children and friends for the sake of the company,
For the sake of making your millions and preserving
Your genetic line for decades to come
(You were never so successful) ,
And the floor beneath you atomizes
Into incongruous parts,
Scattered like sand
In a broken hour glass,
We'll say: You could've been happier
And you could get happier now
Stop complaining
Enjoy yourself
(Smile though your heart is breaking
This is the open window of opportunity,
So jump through it—
Hurdle through the air of potential,
Gliding through the clouds that inhibit our vision for you;
Feel the wind coursing through your hair,
Caressing the tense muscles contracting in your face;
But don't cry when your head folds into your body,
Crunching like a closing, out-of-tune accordion,
When you make impact with the black tarmac
We've paved for your convenience
And protection,
And limitation,
And possibly death.

Be excited that we gave you feeling for just a moment,
Even if that feeling was only the effervescent,
Evanescent feeling of pummeling down toward the Earth
With nothing but our Invisible Hand to catch you
(Which it will not,
Being a transparency, of course) .

If you find yourself out of work,
Ask yourself: Why am I problem?

Have
Have Have Have
Have Hav e
Have Have
Have Have Have Have
H ave
Faith
In us,
So we can trust you,
And blame you
In the most cozy way possible.
Have a nice day!

poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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