Let's Touch Antennae In The Madhouse by Caitlin Johnstone

Let's touch antennae in the madhouse,
beneath the throes of a dying world
and the growing drums of war,
beneath the din of the cannibal Karens and Covid culture wars
and the miserable late night comedians pushing jokes out
through oceans of pain.

Let's touch antennae in the madhouse,
where there are more empty homes than homeless
and more jails than universities,
where there is so little scarcity that we have to artificially create it
and so much excess that we ship our garbage overseas.

Where the news is more worried about a French submarine deal
than Yemeni kids starving under Lockheed Martin bomb weather.

Where they harvest our digital information
and push for us all to get digital identifications
while piling used fast food packaging
on top of any part of us that is real.
Where future generations,
if there are future generations,
will scarce believe that there were once whales.

Let's touch antennae in the madhouse
and remind one another of our uncorrupted essence.

Let's kneel together
foreheads touching
beneath the gunfire
of ecocide advertisements and Pentagon prayers
of screaming red children and oceans of oil
and be intimate
and be infants
and press into that point of primal innocence
within each other
and let our resistances dissolve
to being at one,
to being at one with each other,
and to being at one
with this whole bloody
screaming
sexy
sacred
mess.

______________________________

Reading by Tim Foley.