Antidote

 

Once there was a time when it didn’t matter,
silence was antidote to tin-pot bitching which
shrieked of long-suffering dislocation; usually
an effect of being isolated on an outer-rim or
where it didn’t make sense – and the shit was
dumped discontent, like it is conversationally
okay to bare superficial prejudice and to not
endanger fate

Yet these days silencing links to that network
of unyielding, ingrained isolates will earn fits
of rage – it renders them lesser beings in their
view, like you not agreeing World Wide Web’s
turnaround in meaning has validity – a dour
connotation something really has changed
© 31 January 2013, I. D. Carswell