The Cradle of Civilisation

How ignorant, like crying babes, 
we lay in violent swaddling. 
Suckling at our planet’s teat, 
in need of love and coddling. 
An infant cancer, all consumptive; 
needy, greedy with no control. 
A mind rend broken by chosen ignorance, 
a body left broken by lack of soul. 
Plug in your babysitter, there,
and change the channel to plastic grin
talking to you in goo-goo ga-ga, 
and comforting your smiling chin. 

Grow up. Get old. Get fucking wise, 
you’re an adult in an infantile disguise.
You’re everything that I despise, 
a seer with chosen closed up eyes. 

Go through childhood, go to school, 
learn the lessons, learn the rules, 
learn to make and use your tools. 
Choose to no longer be the fool. 

Go through teens, grow more, mature.  
Get mad at the world with a hormonal roar. 
Read, and live, and learn some more. 
For knowledge never is a chore. 

And then one day, you’ll be a man
or woman, with your own plan. 
A conscious conscience free to stand
and live as Monarch of your own land. 

Oh the pity; the frustration. 
We the children of Earth’s nation, 
the miracles of all creation. 
Merely babies, in the cradle of civilisation.