Friday Poems

This selection of prose is dedicated to Silicon Valley.

Protest #7009,
June 28, 1993


Today is Monday, blue Monday's what they say. Is it only that way here in America, because of some Protestant work ethic we all abide by, yet fear & dread? You can tell all is not well with the working class; those middle of the road, taxed-burdened folks, who are half, if not entirely, insane.

Walking the fine line of conformity, while there's this illness growing in their brains. Mental health; something we here in America refuse to address. Just look over your health insurance policy, the subject is taboo, the payments are less. Why don't we just up & confess that the full employment ideal is naught but a fucking mess?

We live on pharmaceuticals, taken under the doctors care. From anti-depressants to weight loss pills to pain killers, we thrive on these medications to keep us functioning in this great society. Although we pretend that the daily grind, the work ethic, is something in the name of GDP, that we as a country must live up to and bare.

Mental illness is treated and concealed, worse than porn, yet is is caused by this arcane idea of an individuals productivity from the moment we're born. We speak of family values & the home we must own over there on the hill. We suffer our own hypocrisy as if it were our own free will. While here in the land of freedom of speech, our tongues are muted like a dunce in a corner, commanded to sit still.