Human Condition
~after « L’effort humaine » by Jacques Prevert
The human condition isn’t some grinning
stud made of plaster or stone and posed on one leg
and creating the idiotic illusion
courtesy of commercial art
of balletic joy and jubilation
as the other leg rises to mimic
how sweet it is to be home at last
No
the human condition does not carry its son on its right shoulder
and its father on its back
and a daughter in its left arm
while wearing a tool belt
a happy-looking young wife dangling from an arm
It wears a truss
has the battle scars of the underclass
doesn’t own its own home
doesn’t own any ground
and isn’t allowed to stand on the ground it stands on
savors the stink of its labor
will die of black lung diabetes hypertension
makes lousy money, eats bad food
its kids have lice, has no health insurance
works like a slave
it is a slave
It has no “life style”
never experienced The Age of Reason
Instead endured the age of barracks and factory slums
the age of penitentiaries prisons housing projects enterprise zones
house-front churches and
cluster-bombs
It planted all those vineyards
tuned all the violins
then fed itself on its own bad dreams
drank itself sick on the wine of resignation
the black cheese of defeat
and like a poisoned squirrel
spins in nonstop circles
in a low vastness
of dust and dropped ceilings
It hammers the endless chain
It enchains itself
despair greed work slaughter
illness insomnia boredom surrender
hammered gold chain
a croix de guerre
of carbon iron steel
cinders and dust
hung on its neck by hired whores
Charm bracelet of misery
where it hangs its
framed headshots of the mighty
saints’ relics campaign ribbons purple hearts
prom pictures wedding pictures
Pope bobble heads
good-conduct medals
and great televised moments
white house tours rose garden press conferences
the well-heeled ivy league punk
who didn’t believe in accidents and ended up president
it’s gone to museums and honored exhibits
seen the great equestrian portraits
the great full-body portrait
Pharoah Ramses hopping on one foot
the great gilt-edged portrait
of the great fortune teller, great emperor, great thinker, leaper, moralist
and the great busts—
the great giver of pain
the great passive aggressive
the great liberator
the scorch of Hitler
the hangman’s head
no matter where
same shape size color
loathsome head
There
Turn on your TV
Death’s head
