The Happy Docile Dead

The Happy Docile Dead

A Poem by Paul Shannon

From up here on the port side view

Your villages seen from vantages new

Of frivolous individuals born

To graves at which their dreams are torn


A marvelous machine powered by you

Devoted compliance its batteries accrue

To feed the eyes and to blow the horn

When glimpsed an act that is not of the norm


Transitions of life could not have been smoother

It was easy to swallow the serum soother

No questions were asked when the factories changed

No resistance was met when “Why?” went away

At each smiling person the robot is tickled

Into its mouth each drop of blood trickles

To wrap its arms 'round the whole of the world

Its enticing black mass, singularity swirls


A dried up husk of mud, dust, and bone

Mandibular shards that build up the throne

At the final hour the eyes rest their watch

For the villagers accept their funeral march


Down slopes of limbs that reach and claw

Down into the turgid, lightless maw

As far as they go, they never stop nodding

Reassuring themselves of victorious plotting


The acceptance of others still warm in their bellies

Snuffed out into delectable decorative jellies

Above still the beast floats appeased by the ease

Of each individual’s willingness to please

© 2021 Paul Shannon


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Reviews

This sublime fantastic poem makes me think of docile bots though i can't be sure. Its awesomely rhymed and worded. The similes and metaphors are fabulous! Kudos!

Plz do read and comment my newest poem too .

Posted 3 Years Ago


This poem is unlike so many things I've ever read. Surreally explained and expressed. You held my attention rhyme to rhyme. Interesting story, I still don't know exactly what it's about but I think I do.
Tyfs

Posted 3 Years Ago


Paul Shannon

3 Years Ago

Thank you for your kind words

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75 Views
2 Reviews
Added on February 19, 2021
Last Updated on February 19, 2021

Author

Paul Shannon
Paul Shannon

Newfield, NJ



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