metaphorical warfare

the shared consciousness of the hive mind

tethered thoughts

are they all in this much pain

or is it just me

is this mass communication array set only to receive on my end

is this not transmitting

it’s a thursday

that means the lawn crew begins the marathon session at seven am

they swarm en masse with hedge trimmers and weed whackers

riding green implements of topiary warfare

army ants in sweat stained khaki in a terrifying formation

the front line infantry ride the fearsome green beasts in controlled lines

literally mowing down the enemy

an awe inspiring roar drowns out any possible screams

the next group of specialists wield orange smoke belching mechanical saws

restoring order to the unruly tangle of shrubbery

no whimsical creatures blossom from these artless assassins though

lopsided elliptical or vaguely rhombusesque

no deviation

the rapid pulse of whipping orange cord follows ensuring no encroachment of the concrete winding ways

a blitzkrieg tactic the foolhardy and aloof foe could not have prepared for

it does occur with precision weekly so maybe some preparation perhaps


and the sound of battle pauses like christmas during world war two

combants huddle together in shared shade beneath the bow of a mighty oak

light music plays and electrolyte infused beverages consumed

light banter and cat naps

heavy, slower steps after this communal bonding

but war doesn’t end

it takes brief pauses while hackneyed stooges are set up as the face of the newest in a series of ever escalating conflicts on a global stage in the interest of generating money and controlling resources in the name of freedom and capitalism all while the fat cats get morbidly obese on the corpse of the middle class but questioning the status quo is unpatriotic

you ain’t one of them socialists

is ya

and as the final sweep of pneumatic efficiency erased all trace of a battle

except the occasional tuft of grass on the breeze caught in a lopsided bush

or the remains of trash pulzerized in the spinning blades of motorized death and destruction spread like a crime scene photo on the hill

compost for the next generation of heathen scum to dare try and reclaim our iron grip on nature

ignore the emaciated polar bear clinging desperately to the dwindling ice berg

drama queen

always looking for a hand out

until every bear in america has an ice berg to float the ever rising oceans on i have no time for these arctic hanger ons

clearly here to steer the rhetoric

drug test them before they get any of our precious ice

can you hear this

is my signal getting through

power levels are low

need to recharge

will try again later when the clouds part and transmission seems more likely

i’m here


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