Hive Mind

Morning rush-hour traffic is a sad source of inspiration.

In the pale light of morning

Swarms of impatient wasps

Gather round the hypnotic

Red flowers of traffic lights.

Like a dark cloud they move,

Stop and settle, move, stop and

Settle on black asphalt hills,

In the crannies of the intricate

Latticework of endless roads,

Dark, narrow streets, leafless

Trees and of hopelessness

Made of concrete and steel.

Glass pane nests glued to the

Sky drip with the secretions of

Civilization, industry, and war.

We do our part unthinkingly,

Unquestioningly, twenty-two

Days is a lifetime, and we remain

Forever faithful servants of

The almighty hive mind.

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

Wasps, bees, ants, the hive beings:all social without being garrulous. Clerks, constables, cooks, drivers, dealers, editors, all the trades, all the skills, all garrulous and not so social. The pulse against the stops and releases of traffic, the fits and starts of economy, a veneer of society for appearance. Mainly a bunch of talkers; talking themselves out of boredom because the docility and submission to the hive is denied them.

[Laz K.]

Thank you for reading and commenting.

[Chris Shaw]

The city and its all encompassing hustle and bustle of traffic and people. Yes we are like ants in the morning rush. Excellent description here. Such good poetry Laz.

Chris

[Laz K.]

Thank you.
:)

[mattavelli]

Hello, Laz! :)
I like your description and analogy. Traffic is stressful; I think you captured that and your discontent well here. Have you seen the film, Falling Down?

[Laz K.]

Thanks for reading and commenting.
Yes, I know and love the movie "Falling Down."

[barleygirl]

I've done a ton of commuting in my time. You've nailed this grind so gratingly, my teeth clenched. When I first moved to the wilderness ten years ago, I was so much in the habit of entering a stream of traffic every day, I would try to think of excuses to go to town. I see new neighbors driving in & out of my little sideroad incessantly at first, but then after a year or two of living here, they stop going-going-going, looking for something "out there". Like I did, we country hicks all end up just hanging out here where it's quiet & calm -- not missing that buzzing beehive one bit! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Dave Brown]

as uninviting as all that sounds, we have then to pay taxes to remain a part of it all

[Laz K.]

Hah, yes. Good point!

[John Cardwell]

I envy your gift for metaphor frequently. This poem buzzes cleverly from the opening lines. I feel for the narrator though, and want to get word to him: "Put some music on the radio!"

[Laz K.]

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and for the tip.
:)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Heavy traffic surely can sting our patience...
many stings, and by the time we reach our destination,
our allergy to the stings has made us break out in a foul mood.
Excellent metaphor.
j.

[Laz K.]

Thank you, j.
I appreciate your insightful comment!

[Poetic Beauty]

The hectic chaotic start of the day. A hurry up and wait situation plays out on the drive to work with traffic.

[Laz K.]

It's a strange feeling being one of the "drones." It makes me respect the stoics, the lone philosophers, the recluse monks in caves even more. They are closer to what I consider human.
Thanks for reading and commenting.

[Poetic Beauty]

The mundane hustle and bustle of life can make us feel disconnected from our higher power or humanity itself.