The Strangest thing is…

Oksana Yambykh, 1966 | Surrealist painter
 The strangest thing is,
 how quickly
 one part of the herd 
attempts to silence another part
 of the herd, 
as soon as that part of the herd
 attempts to understand something
 from another perspective.
 It's knee-jerk.... 
It's almost malicious,
 almost like a dopamine kick .... 
The moment a person questions
 'what they are told' ... ( regardless
 of their exact question or their current standpoint)... 
This flock of vehement vultures 
 to rip the tatters of flesh
 from the face
 of the Issue At Hand.... 
 the Insolent Questioner to crawl back
 into the warm comfort
 of their ConsciousnessControlledCave....
So the Virulent InterNet InQuisition
 can ImPart the imPosition 
of the Accepted Ideas and Ideologies
 and keep the Chaos of Confusion 
Safe in its Cozy Little Cage, 
where Curiosity 
has been Castrated and Laid 
to Rest.  

 Actually it's not so strange,
 the Range of most Herds
 is preArranged
 by the Gates and the Shepherds 
that Lie in Wait....
 The Irony that so many get terribly
 when they are called the Herd,
 in relation to Words that Infer 
a Reality at Variance
 from what is Preffered
 by their Neurological DisPosition.....
 And yet
 their Insistence that 'Herd Immunity'
 is a Resistance against disEase , 
justifying Injection
 of Conjecture
 that threaten the Whole Structure.....
in that case the Self Implied Herd
 can be used
 without assumed Abuse
 of their Intelligence. 

It's a strange Paradox
 this Game we are Playing, 
the only Dragon worth slaying
 is the one who guards the Gates
 to the Way In, 
to the Way to open the I's and Thines
 and Mysteries of Time. 
The Polarized Embrace 
of the Mystic and Mime 
encases the great Race through
 this MindField, 
the maze of days that chaos craves,
 the fertile ground above the Graves 
that give rise
 to Forms
 of Future 
Players and slaves to systems
 and games of hide and Seek
 with Hands and Feet Tied
 to cycles
 that build to climb
 their way out, 
by going inside......

 It's strange.....
The herd. 
Grazing and awaiting....
kept in check.Mating. 
Dismayed by Waves in the Field, 
that make blank the Yield of perceptions
 of Real Living, 
while the Wild Raw Primal Claws
 of the Untamed Soul 
watches beyond the forest knoll,
 never safe
 from the Perils of Life,
 but Alive
 in the Senses
 and unpenned in the Fences
 of the farmers safe spaces.... 
The Wilderness of Wonder 
can only survive inside the hide 
and skin 
of the kin
 of the wide open skies, 
and the unfettered forests of an 
Uncaptured Mind.

Copyright Charleen Johnston