No time for Poets

What? It's only a poem...it's not going to change the world...

I know
we’re all really busy
shuffling through 1000s of emails
and social media posts
in our vigilant quest
to do our personal best
in fighting against
the encroaching
cockaroaching
double you
eee 
eff
&
other
unelected 
borganizations.

But
can you spare
an eternal moment
to read my poetry?

I mean,
it’s only a poem.
It’s not going to change the world,
or
could it?

I promise, 
you’ll still have time 
to attend your three-year old 
sister’s brother-in-law’s nephew’s great nephew’s birthday party
even though his head’s
floating in the clouds 
of the
theta dream state
and won’t remember
a thing about it.

You’ll still
be able to watch
the Sunday football game
with your other buddies
over snacks and brewskis,
playing armchair coach
from your skybox
even though
the game’s as fake
and scripted as the 
double you
double you
eee.

But
if it could
change the world
maybe fighter jets would
stop in midair before
dropping another
explosive deuce
upon Gaza
or 
laying down another
chemveil of plane cocaine
that blanket the land in clouds
of luminous aluminum;
or make
even injured toy soldiers
buy-o-their-weapons back
and turn their forts
into playgrounds.

Maybe
--just maybe—
people would get up
from their desks in offices
all over the world and walk out en masse
through the revolving doors once and for all,
and just keep walking through a
new set of invisible doors 
into a different Life.

Maybe
the Pied Piper
would pipe his happy little ditty
and drive out all the rats who 
tried to destroy our world
and lead them over
the cliff like lemmings
to their well-deserved end.

Maybe
we would finally learn
who we really are without
all the filters welded onto
our eyes by history’s handlers.

And
maybe—
just maybe—
everyone would finally 
have whatever they need 
to live their lives in peace
abundance and prosperity;
hands interlocking other hands
to form a network of cooperation,
everyone’s heart a flag waving in 
freedom’s cool trembling breeze.

And--
who knows?--
the whole planet
could be turned into
party city for which
everyone would be 
their own Mayor
inaugurating
a brand-new everyday
of Heaven on Earth.

Now
can you spare
an eternal moment
to read my poetry?

It’s not going to change the world.

Or could it…?