We Service the Machine
I was thinking about how the rebels of yesterday, who made the walls of the city tremble, were bought off and incorporated into the very structures they stood against; their rebellion and anti-establishment stances becoming the icons of consumerism, their wealth buying access to the higher echelons and their posturing as trendy designer chic.
You cannot go anywhere without images of Elvis, James Dean, John Lennon and Che Guevara staring you in the face. Even Sinatra is in from the cold, Marylyn has her skirt blown in the air and Marx is the beard to wear.
The celebrity culture parades Mick Jagger as the epitome of revolutionary cool as he deploys his hairdresser and fitness trainer to prolong his marketability.
The establishment is adept at absorbing the blows and deflecting them so they are turned upon us. Johnny Lydon sells butter and the rebels become commodities to milk for profit.
There is no escape from the machine. We all service its insatiable needs as if busily gobbles up the earth we tread upon, the air we breathe and the life that sustains us.
My wails are pointless until they become exploitable.
We Service the Machine
Che is on the T-Shirt,
Lennon on the mug.
Quotes are plastered on our mouse-mats
To give our minds a hug.
But the profits from these baubles
Are siphoned to the State,
As the establishment exploits our tastes,
Our dreams, and finally our fate.
We are numbers to be deployed
In a pointless, superficial scheme
Where hypocrisy rules
As we service the machine.
Opher 2.9.2015