To the Ancestors – A Poem

I haven’t written a poem in about 10 years, but I guess reactionary reading and reactionary fellowship has inspired me more than any Leftist dogma of the last 10 years.

To The Ancestors

To those anonymous heroes past

Who knows what you would think

Of the current year compared to last

Though in reality deeper is that stink.

To those who fought so hard before

Not only in battle, but just to see the day through.

What life must look like now we’ve changed its core:

A listless ship lost at sea, ghosts for its crew.

And in what ways have we become the damned

I can count the ways – three.

Aimless, helpless and hopeless: all crammed

Together cruelly to crush our commonality.

If time is an arrow then we have lost

All force and inertia pulls us down.

One cannot deny physics; one must pay the cost.

Rue the apple that fell on Newton’s crown.

Once we understood the bullseye, that glorious prize.

But our aim has wandered as we wondered,

What else is out there? Life took us by surprise,

And showed us an abyss into which we fell and blundered.

A lack of focus left us helpless as a babe.

Our curse is the loss of children,

Each generation weaker, and yours no doubt dismayed

That from such beginnings degeneracy comes unbidden.

All our aid goes to the endless symptoms

That are the result of cancerous ideals.

To take the log from our eyes, an ancient dose of wisdom,

Would cut away the malignant growth it reveals.

With no goal nor support, hope itself disappears,

Like a fading mirage the future teases cruelly.

What could have been will never be, our debts in arrears,

We’ve squandered it all, our will power too unruly.

Everything moves quickly, so fast no one can see

That even those who cling to hope are idealistic fools.

All that is good and evil is the result of technology,

But can you decide which is which? There are no longer rules.

And yet from amongst the ruins some rise,

some reach out to grasp their destiny.

Some recognise their ancestors cries

As the world continues its manic spree.

There is a hole with which we must cope,

That must be filled no matter what.

Aim high; get help; hold on to hope.

Only then will we achieve what others cannot.

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