It is the Dialectic

Cucumber Lodge


Just what was wrong, I could not tell.

For years I thought, I sensed a spell.

It was the dialectic.

So used to it, unreal it smelled.

A masking scent, a sweet unwell,

It was the dialectic.

With every hard, or softened sell,

Echoed in my mind, Orwell,

It was the dialectic.

 Wherewith we fell, the kiss and tell,

Strict compromise, wherein we dwell,

It was the dialectic.

Censors heaven, well as hell,

Faking justice, good as well.

It was the dialectic.

Everywhere it had been sold,

In slices too thin to behold.

It was the dialectic.

In school, at work, in industry,

In politics, in church, at tea.

It was the dialectic.

It builds a shine, makes all feel fine,

Till yours is mine, the perfect crime.

It is the dialectic.

Cry aloud, speak up, bewail,

Expose the Frankfurt Wiener Sale!

 It is the dialectic.

 A field trip…

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