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Plan De Match

de Jeanne Bonjour

We are living in desolating times.
How can you laugh this loud while this world dies?
When people are turned into slaves - neither dead nor alive;
Smiling satisfied while living the biggest lies.

Traumatized minds are replaced with cyborg-brains.
They have no names, just numbers. Blinded by shame
their weary bones are crushed by the megamachine.
There is no heaven, but hell. Just ghosts in their shells.

“The natural world - once untouched wilderness - is degraded.
It is now a gigantic poisoned chunk heap of which resources are extracted.
The only forests left are those of sooted smokestacks
Not covered by mist, but by toxic clouds of desperation.”

Old growth forests are turned into barren land.
Lush meadows into parking lots.
This society tries to sell everything, until the kids ask:
“Daddy, what's the moon supposed to advertise?”

“With mass technological society in pathological proportions
we have developed a world order, which isolates and disorientates us.
It separates us from the natural world. Our former home.
Our one true home.“

This is the psychic deplacement. The trauma. The exile. The alienation,
which is inherent in civilized life.
This is our homelessness.

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