An idle mind, though seems no deal at all,
Is like an ape, locked in an empty room
With nothing but a nuclear remote control.
What truly happens, when the spirit starves?
When boredom is the sole thing known to us?
When our brains slowly rot under the weight
Of empty challenges and lack of aim in life?
We start to seek excitement – food and drink,
Or hollow gossip, following the lead
Of others. Tiring of that, we turn
To drugs and alcohol or darkness and despair:
All that might add at least some flair
To the enduring grayness that has become our life.
You need a moral, too? Well, here it is:
Just keep your children bored.
Give them no room for independent thought.
Do not attempt to strain those tiny brains,
You let them laze away, forget the thirst
For knowledge; better still
For them to never know it.
And must you choose a pastime, go for sport.
That, or TV. Let it become their life.
Do what you may, but leave the brain sterile.
Like so, in time, you’ll live to reap the fruit.
Most will accept their fate
Of paralyzing sleep and live their poor un-life,
Looking for delight
In daily shots of social network feed.
The others won’t find rest. Oh no,
They’ll fight. Two choices here:
To grow despite yourself, push forth your will to learn
Of truth, of art, of riddles yet unsolved.
Another road – to find no strength inside
To leave the swamp life cruelly cast you in.
Feel the despair and anger fill you to the rim,
All pow’red by thoughts unthought and words unsaid.
Be sure, it will explode. How – that’s the question.
In scarred wrists, a tight-tied rope
Or in blind rage unleashed,
A secret gun and a resolve apparent all too late
That only some deserve the right to live.
A protest may burst out, but what against?
The empty-shelled defiance overthrows
Empires ageing several hundred years
Without even knowing what comes next.
An air-filled head is easier to rule,
But oxygen feeds fire, as is known.
