Lethe

Lethe was also the name of the Greek spirit of forgetfulness and oblivion, with whom the river was often identified. In Classical Greek, the word lethe (λήθη) literally means "oblivion", "forget"

I’ll look up and see a wasp

Or a bee, hunting around,

Ready to die.

Collaborations simplified in rivers abreast

Oh, the shores of Lethe are so delightful

With their ash marked eyes and solitude beggars

Potted plants of desiree, coal jutted shouts cross

Blanket crowds shoved in a bruised corner

With a madman screaming something about

Lasting generation and forced collaration.

See the basket cases? Claimed they were

From the devil, Dee did, muttering about kingdoms

and collard greens

With her stuffed, shrunk coat waddling round the

same Dickey’s, a corner from Westboro Baptist.

And kitty corner from the statues no one’s taking down

Cause Mr.White said nah son, that’s not right

As he bombed Bethel Baptist one more time.

And these shores are so delightful, don’t you see?

Harpooned sticks and scarecrows, oh sorry,

I meant social expectations, but who cares anyway?

Wondering why we all say “i want to die’,

Have you looked at the government mandating

People unhuman, or the money situation,

Should be on the news, but

No we here at Fox and CNN don’t believe that’s important.

Say, I don’t think we should have Onion headlines

On the New York Times.

So we say ‘i want to die’ and the Gazette tells us

it’s those damn video games again

or maybe it’s the stigma and lack of compassion from

The Powerful.

And you hear on the street,

“Weed’s ending this country,”

Sorry, I wanted a break from all this god damn noise

From a country pulling apart at the beaten seams

Of another unwritten book.

Anger, you’ll say, irrational, I’ll add,

But pointing at the statue in the park

And you wonder why all those wasps

And bees we look down on, the gerbils and

Hamsters

That we never pull a punch on

Why they escape through the way they know how,

Why, wouldn’t you too? But that’d require empathy, sir,

And apparently you lack more than morals, sir.

Look, there’s Dee, getting her collard greens

In her stuffy, shrunken jacket,

Round the corner from Dickey’s and cracked roads with

littered breezes blowing past cars open windows, honking and

brazen calls.

Welcome to the Lethe shores,

Don’t worry, you won’t remember a thing,

Slipped a bit of Liquid X in your alcohol.