Success is Luck (With a big L)

It’s a great taboo to assert that success (defined here as recognition and financial success because there are many kinds of success) comes largely from luck. Of course, hard work plays a role in success, but luck, timing, and connections are so often an even more powerful force.

But wait, you say, I worked hard to achieve all the things I have!

Did you work harder than everyone else in your field who never achieved the recognition and success you found? 

What’s more, the difficulty of work is quite relative. Who works harder each day? The construction worker who uses their body to build things? The janitor who cleans toilets and prevents the spread of disease? The coder who, versed in a computer language, reshapes technology? The doctor who saves lives? The teacher who must train the young minds of the future? The manager, who must organize the rest of the labor at a restaurant? We compare the kinds of labor and justify how much people make based on entirely relative notions, that are steeped in luck. Not everyone is born in the right circumstances to take advantage of education and technology.

So, we tell ourselves so desperately that hard work = success because the reality is, we are too embarrassed to admit when we are successful that luck played an enormous role. A person can work twelve-hour days for the entirety of their life, rarely miss a sick day, and always be on time, and can still die destitute no matter how well they manage their money.

But wait you say again, I did work hard to get where I am at!

You did. No one is seriously denying that unless perhaps you won the lottery or something, which is just another kind of luck.

Again, did you work harder than everyone else in your field who never achieved the recognition and success you found? Did they want their success less than you? Perhaps they didn’t visualize the goal as hard as you?

To assert so, would be the worst kind of arrogance. We have created a system with far more losers than winners.

So what then are we rewarding with financial success and recognition? It is not hard work. It’s luck. And mythmaking about how Europe came to power, plays a role in the modern idea of hard work equates to success.

Perhaps an element of the modern Western notion of hard work equates to success is an example of how the myth of exceptionalism, born in a narrative of superiority during the rise and justifications of the horrors of colonialism, is nothing more than a defense of the fact that ultimately success is overwhelmingly about luck. The West isn’t exactly unique in this belief, but it’s certainly a core justification of the structure of our world at this stage of history.

The rise of Europe, like so much of history is about luck and timing. Europe was in the right place at the right time after the collapse of the Mongol empire. Then, hit by the black death, the traditional power structures crumbled at just the right moment for change to surge forth and give rise to a new merchant class. This increased trade and brought wealth to Europe, which alongside many other cultural and social processes, brought increased power to several kingdoms. Competing for dominance, these kingdoms began their colonial project.

I am oversimplifying these incredibly complex processes of course (a few sources for further reading are listed below if you are interested), but luck and timing also lead to the rise of every empire in history. Most of the tools and technology and knowledge that Europe used to launch the colonial project came from other places around the world. Very little of the technology required for the colonial project originated in Europe itself.

True, Europe improved upon many of these ideas, but that’s not unique. This is true of every empire. One of the things that make empires powerful is their ability to take a wide variety of ideas from diverse populations and cultures and turn them to their advantage. Empires are great at synthesis. If they aren’t they either never rise, or don’t last very long. But during the late 15th century, Europe had the right conditions and was in the right place at the right time. Europeans had the opportunity to synthesize much of the available knowledge and technology of the known world at a moment and, with several other factors at play, succeeded. The greater their reach grew, the greater access they had to technology, knowledge, and resources, thus deepening their power.

The powerful always imagine the past in a way that justifies how they seized said power. We always need a justification for our less-than-favorable qualities or actions, especially when we know we are doing things that are deeply problematic.

Shifting back to the individual level. The talent of exceptional individuals largely went unnoticed throughout history because people were marginalized through an accident of birth or circumstance. What if Mozart had been born a slave? Or Rumi a serf under a feudal lord. Both were extraordinary, and both were incredibly lucky to be born in the time and circumstances in which they lived. There is no doubt the world would be poorer had these individuals never had the opportunity to explore their unique genius. And yet, we have squandered so much human potential throughout history. How much genius has been lost to terrible systems of oppression?

At the very core of our experience is luck. Ideologies around the world, both secular and religious, have tried for centuries to justify why some are born lucky, and some are not. The Hindu caste system, the divine right of kings, the concept of manifest destiny, or even hate groups that believe they are born superior to others, tout their superiority and supremacy to justify the suffering they inflict on others. The bootstraps myth of American life (the concept of which was originally a satire of what the elites said about the poor since you cannot physically lift yourself by your bootstraps), is yet another justification of oppression. The powerful justify their power through a narrative that makes them feel special, while othering the very people that they build their power from through exploitation.

Why do we fight so hard to discount luck? What is it that so many people around the world who are successful in one way or another, feel it’s almost taboo to say they were born lucky? Certainly, some of us who are unlucky, do not have such reservations. I don’t. Part of it may be our need to create meaning in a world that feels meaningless. Part of it may be the storytelling and mythmaking that are so deeply embedded in the human brain or the pattern-seeking systems in our neurology. Regardless of the why, creating political and economic systems that reward luck and discount the important contributions of everyone in a community, has disastrous consequences for a large majority of the human species both historically and presently.


Many of us are obsessed with the narrative of the great individual, the idea that some people just come along and reshape the world. This is only a partial truth. The remarkable individuals are often just great synergists. They, for all their luck, come along and take many ideas and concepts and frame them in a new way others had not considered before, adding only a little to the existent and much larger body of knowledge. The light bulb, for example, is often credited to Edison, but, not only did it take a huge existing body of research and knowledge for Edison to synthesize the idea, but he also wasn’t the only one at the time to have come up with it. There are several individuals credited (Nicola Tesla, Hiram Maxum, and Joseph Swan to name just a few) with its invention at the same time. But, because of luck, politics (in this case patent laws), and power, Edison is credited as the brilliant mind who brought the invention to light (pun intended).

Did Edison work hard to synthesize his idea? Sure. How many of us have grown up hearing about his incredible number of failures in his process, which from a scientific standpoint isn’t all that remarkable anyway. Plenty of researchers plug away at their subject for thousands and thousands of hours and run thousands of experiments before they find any kind of success. Some ultimately fail, which also advances science. No, there is nothing particularly special about Edison. So again, I ask, did Edison work harder than any of the others who succeeded as he did or the others who tried just as many times and failed? Consider the conditions of Edison’s life that he was able to simply sit around and fail hundreds or thousands of times. Edison was born to a middle-class family. What if he had been born into a family with few resources?

We are not rewarding hard work, we are rewarding luck.

As long as we hold this notion of hard work = success we will always be captives to abusive systems. Some people are just luckier than others. It’s that simple. We all know that some are born luckier. It’s not hard to see.  If you were to survey a huge number of people on the streets of any major city and asked, do you think some people are born luckier than others, the majority would certainly say yes.

And luck certainly is not a reflection of character. Some of the most vile people in the history of the planet have been incredibly lucky. Conversely, some of the greatest examples of compassion, have been incredibly unlikely. Do only the good die young? I’m not so sure that’s exactly true but, life is the roll of the dice.

This is why we must end these absurd systems that reward luck. Because many amazing people starve to death every single day. Recently, a dear friend of mine, who was one of the most loving and courageous people I know, died far too young after striving endlessly to just meet her basic needs in life. Life was always hard for her, and she worked hard every single day. Yet, she never saw the rewards of this hard work. And doubtless, if you look around honestly, you will see endless examples of this. No, not everything works out for everyone. That’s simply another platitude to ignore the bad luck of others and justify burying our heads in the sand.

The UN estimates that 25,000 people, including 10,000 children die every day from starvation. Most of these people were born into bad luck or something unlucky happened to them to make them far more vulnerable to an exploitive system that rewards luck and forgets the basic decency and dignity of taking care of other people. These exploitive systems make us less human and more selfish and apathetic. We need to learn to imagine another way of moving through the world, both economically and politically. Everyone deserves dignity. We can do something about this. A failure of imagination is not evidence that the present system we have is inevitable.

So say it with me. Because if we don’t, we will continue down the dark path of indifference. We must start creating systems that maximize human potential instead of squandering it.

Success is luck. 

Success is luck. 

Success

is

luck.

References and Related Further Reading:
Europe and the People Without History

Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World

The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity

Debt: The First 5,000 Years

The Meritocracy Trap

Nickeled and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America

Rereading to Improve Your Writing Craft

There are so many books to read and so little time. It’s a mantra every bookworm knows well. I currently have almost 300 books on my Goodreads, want-to-read list, and that’s just what’s on Goodreads. I probably own at least 200 more ebooks, audiobooks, paperbacks, and hardcovers. I often feel frustrated that I can only get through so many books in a year, despite constant reading. I want to explore new ideas and new worlds and new characters and grow my knowledge of fictional universes to improve my craft and gain exposure to new styles. Yet, the more I read and the more I write, the more I have come to believe that rereading some of those books I live is vital to improving my craft.  

Over the last five years or so, I’ve begun to put books on a reread list. The books that make this list are ones that I couldn’t put down, books that I often sacrifice sleep to read chapters or finish. I want to reread them because I enjoyed them, but there’s another reason. I want to understand the why of what caught my interest. Was it something in their style? The descriptions? The characters? What made it so I couldn’t put that book down and how can I build on those skills in my own writing?

Recently I reread Kim Stanley Robinson’s book Red Mars. Robinson is one of my favorite sci-fi authors because he’s an extraordinary worldbuilder and his characters are so wonderfully complex. Of course, he’s not everyone’s cup of tea as some of his passages and descriptions are quite lengthy, but I love his work. In reading Red Mars for a second time I was able to see exactly how he used his themes through his characters’ lives and how some characters were even a kind of avatar of a theme or philosophy that could be pitted against each other. So much of Robinson’s arguments surround the arguments, to terraform or not to terraform (each represented by a major character and their followers) and to continue with the Terran status quo or to create something politically and economically new (again represented by particular characters). In this you have a kind of four-pointed nexus that makes for very interesting and contrasting characters, all of whom want to call Mars home, but in their own way.

Rereading the book reminded me a bit of some of the suggestions from John Truby’s wonderful book The Anatomy of Story. The most interesting stories often have characters with similar goals, but different approaches.  This makes for lots of really interesting conflict and opportunities for characters who do change as a result of their experiences in a way that feels organic and natural. Of course, if you’ve read the whole Mars trilogy, you know that the conversation continues for many of the characters and the depth grows. But while I wasn’t ignorant of these themes the first time I read the book,  I didn’t notice the same level of depth the first time around. It’s not that I don’t think you can do this the first time around, it’s that I think you can do it better the second time around because you’re less distracted by the story itself and thus can tinker with the materials that went into the story’s construction. Once you observe the whole picture, you’re ready to understand the fine details of its construction.  

Consider, after you’ve finished the first draft of your own story, you can do the same thing. I know it takes me about seven to ten drafts before I feel a chapter or a short story is ready to go to an editor. So why not use the first few drafts to get the story out of the way, and then in the later drafts apply that critical eye you get from rereading books you love?

Here are a few questions I ask myself during a reread:

  1. How does the dialogue in this passage contribute to the character’s place in the story and the general themes that they embody?
  2. What kind of description speaks to you? When are your eyes glazing over from too much description?
  3. How does the author use the show vs tell dichotomy and how well does it work? What did you want to see more of? Less of?
  4. How does the pacing between action, dialogue, worldbuilding, and the inner life of the character work? When does it shine? When is it weak?
  5. What kinds of things make you turn the next page? What piques your curiosity?
  6. If the book is bad, why did you put it down or struggle to finish it?
  7. How does the author use themes or their central thesis to move the characters or build connections?

Ultimately a lot of this is your own opinion, and it’s important to keep that in mind. But even if you don’t like a book but it has fantastic reviews and critical acclaim, it’s worth doing this process to expand your craft. The goal here is to get you thinking critically about your own writing and thus improve your work. For me, I’ve found that rereading has been useful in that endeavor. What do you think?  

Not Anywhere At All… (Poetry)

You always hear… wherever you go there you are. But who are you?
The artwork is a mixture of several midjourney prompts and some significant photoshop editing.

Not anywhere at all…


They say, Wherever you go, there you are

But I am no where to be found

I circle round all day looking

And find nothing even remotely profound


The when of me isn’t looking much better

For I will die again soon

But if I am willing to die every single moment

I can dance with the spirit of the moon


The urge to transform I cannot suppress

Nor is it a journey light of heart

To delve deep into myself in all it’s intimacy

Is to tear my ego apart


Wherever I go is not where I will be

But a moment just past recognition

I slip away so suddenly

Beyond the unknown and into a permanent state of transition


I cannot grasp the formless  

And certainly not my mind

For I am not an individual  

At least, nothing so easily defined  


 It turns out I am made from simple things

Contexts and conditions of endless configurations

To know them well is to know the source of all things

And get closer to some kind of liberation


It requires a little madness to begin

To start the process going

So I will let go of the ways I think and feel

And consider another way of knowing  

What Do You Know?

I’ve been thinking a lot about self-honesty lately. I’ve had more than a few hiccups in my life recently and somehow, I seem to be okay with it all. That doesn’t mean there aren’t heavy moments or difficulty or struggle… but it’s alright.

I’ve found so much peace and just letting my creativity flow. Here is one such flow.

Note: The image was generated by midjourney based on the words below. But the words, as always, are my own.

What Do You Know?

You don’t really know yourself.                                                              None of us do….

How could we?

We are not individuals.

We are not a simple narrative of birth to death.

There is no line that we walk,

even if we consider the m~e~a~n~d~e~r~I~n~g~ paths that hold our

[Traces…]

We Walk…………… Forward

                                                                                                                    drawkcaB ……………klaw eW

We die many times in a single life.

Have you ever tried to count your deaths in this cycle?

Bardo is forever.

Because

We are a profound amalgamation

of the connections,

the environments,

the knowledge,

the experiences,

we have encountered.

It is not possible to untangle yourself so completely that you can measure the shape and structure of

who

you

are.

Yet, we must try.

There is no more noble a pursuit then to

Examine yourself with honesty and intimacy.

Love

The

Fact

Finding

Mission Within

And you will find the whole universe mirrored.

Do not try to grasp at concepts

You are water,

Ever flowing,

Ever Changing

A closed fist can never hold water for long

Know thyself?

No!

There is no end to self-knowledge

So BE in a relationship with yourself

Dance with the Depths,                  The Shadows,

The Desires,                                              The Light,

And move to the rhythm of laughter.

Tenderness dear one…

Always Tenderness

Because self-honesty…

Though necessary…

Tangles with turmoil

And Temper Tantrums

But Persist in your pursuit

For we need a true communion of the heart

To Stand On the Rubble

A child sits with their back turned on top of rubble

This precious human life we have is ever-changing.

We wish things will stay the same forever when they are wonderful, and wish they would change quickly when they aren’t. We are always wishing, always trying to keep the bad at bay or hold the good up forever. But this is an unreasonable ask. All things fall apart eventually. So we become dissatisfied because we hold ourselves to an impossible standard of perfection. All structures are inherently unstable.

We are just a boat, on the ocean, riding the waves and tides. We have so little control over the forces that surround us. Up and down we go in the waves and troughs… waves and troughs. We do not know when a storm might hit, or when the wind might die, or when the sailing is smooth, and the food is plentiful, but we do know we must press on. The journey must continue.

It’s easy to allow yourself to be possessed by your fears, your anxieties, and your frustrations. It is easy to give in to self-pity and hopelessness. It is easy to feel that no matter what you do, nothing goes right. But to quote the band, Bad Religion, “Self-pity is always a case of mistaken identity.”

No matter your outer conditions, you have a deep natural curiosity and joy that lives inside you. You have an inner child who wants to play and explore and thrive, no matter the conditions of your life. For what child, seeing a pile of rubble, doesn’t want to climb up on top and declare themselves ruler of the world?

We rule our worlds. Not in any external way. You cannot control when things collapse or when the winds of changes blow gales through your life. But you can climb on the rubble and declare victory. You can turn toward yourself with compassion. You can live in a state of self-honesty and acknowledge those heavy emotions, but without letting them possess you.

Self-honestly can feel like a dark forest, with unknown shadows lurking behind the trees, at least at first. But when we connect with that forest, when we learn to love the land, we find wonders, medicines, and peace. Be like our ancestors and listen deeply to that land. Be in communion with it. Learn the lay of your own internal landscape. Learn its wonders and beauty.

Be present with yourself, with what is, but be present with all things in all moments. In every moment, there is beauty and joy, even in the darkest times. Life does not stop being beautiful, because we have forgotten. Choose to remember.

Let that child out. Let your life be full of wonder and interest. And when times are hard, be curious instead of furious. Look at the possibilities in collapse. For in the wake of destruction, it is in our very nature, and the nature of all living things, to change and discard qualities and aspects that are not useful anymore. Even our biological evolution is a process of adaptation and removal.

When things go wrong ask yourself, what isn’t useful anymore? Look at both inner and outer elements. Do not just remove everything you don’t like, understand it first. See its wisdom. It may not need to be removed but instead, reorganized. Look inward honestly and see what habits and ideas no longer work. Admit when you were wrong.

Be wary of the advice of others. Test their ideas out for yourself carefully, else you may venture a long way down a dishonest path. We are diverse in experience and motivation. There is no one right way to love life.

When you are honest, space opens inside you. Take that new space you’ve created, and fill it with love. If you love to be in nature, do it. If you love to create, do it. If you love to connect with people, or reconnect, do it. Find ways to bring smiles to your face and the faces of others. Help people to feel authentic, while you develop your own authenticity.

Be creative in whatever form that takes. Build things, explore things, and open yourself up to the wonder of all that is. Remember how many things had to come together, for you to be here, now, at this moment. You are precious. This life is precious. Love it the best you can.

I See A Buddha (Poetry)

Sometimes we see things that aren’t there. Sometimes we see things we want to see. And sometimes if we know how to look, we can see a Buddha. This poem is about learning to look, even in the most chaotic of places.

The Art was generated by midjourney with lines from the poem as a prompt and the words are my own.

I See A Buddha

I see a buddha in the mess of words I wrote above,

Though,

I’ve veiled them from you.

It’s personal okay?

But let me say that it was all about,

How often I get to hear sparrows sing,

Or taste the morsal of a good word from book or craft,

Or chase the geese like a wild man again so that every passer by thinks me mad.


I see the buddha in the mess of words I wrote above,

Because my sadness is symmetrical,

For I know not which path is the mindful one,

And there are more than two besides.

But weave weave weave weave,

I must learn to weave,

Because I see a buddha in the mess of words I wrote above.

Adding Diversity to your Writing (Panel Discussion Cosine Comic-Con 2023 in Colorado Springs)

This last weekend I had a great time at Cosine Comic-con. I was on several panels as both participant and moderator and sat in on a number of great discussions. As always, I try to record some of the panels that I think might be helpful for writing or a good resource for people. You can find the recording of, Adding Diversity to your Writing, below. This panel included myself and the following panelists:

Betsy Dornbusch

Betsy Dornbusch writes epic fantasy, and has dabbled in science fiction, thrillers, and erotica. Her short fiction has appeared in over twenty magazines and anthologies, and she’s the author of three novellas. Her first fantasy novel came out in 2012 and her latest trilogy, Books of the Seven Eyes, wrapped up with Enemy in 2017. The Silver Scar, a standalone future fantasy novel, was called “a spellbinding saga” by Publisher’s Weekly.


Thea Hutcheson (Moderator)

Thea Hutcheson explores far away lands full of magic and science with one hand holding hope and the other full of wonder while she burns up pages with lust, leather, and latex, brimming over with juicy bits. She lives in an economically depressed, unscenic, nearly historic small city in Colorado. She is a factotum when she is filling the time between bouts at the computer.

Martha Wells

Martha Wells has been an SF/F writer since her first fantasy novel was published in 1993, and her work includes The Books of the Raksura series, The Death of the Necromancer, the Fall of Ile-Rien trilogy, The Murderbot Diaries series, media tie-in fiction for Star WarsStargate: Atlantis, and Magic: the Gathering, as well as short fiction, YA novels, and non-fiction. She has won Nebula Awards, Hugo Awards, and Locus Awards, and her work has appeared on the Philip K. Dick Award ballot, the BSFA Award ballot, the USA Today Bestseller List, and the New York Times Bestseller List. She is a member of the Texas Literary Hall of Fame, and her books have been published in twenty-two languages.

The Tyranny of Symbols (First Poem of 2023)

Happy New Year everyone! I hope your year is starting well. Here’s the first poem I’ve written in 2023, accompanied by some AI generated Art (generated based on lines from the poem).

Generated in MidJourney with lines from the poem

A Tyranny of Symbols

We are like catapults casting symbols across a chasm

At war with abstractions

Where common sense is not so common

And the least common denominator is always left in the back alley to rot in the fifth of our own making.


For what reason did we choose the sounds and muscles that make the word love,

Or truth,

Or creature,

Or tide?

For language is a tide,

With words in and out of fashion

Eb, and flow,

Push, and pull,

All tides have a time of their choosing

And yet so many choose to attack the waters with fist and blade and hate,

Until knuckles are bloody at the long lingering task of


Control

Order

Sameness

Identity


What symbol flung upon your body or taken by choice has ever brought you wholeness

Instead of fracture?


I

Am

This.

You

Are

That.


Lines in the sand for which we dare not cross

We collect symbols to adorn our naked bodies

Rather than recognizing our rapturous reality,

That

We

Are

Star

Stuff


We fling like catapults,

Into the dark,

Hoping for illumination

But instead,

We become,

Weapons of mutually assured destruction.


We set words on fire,

Arguing to unburden ourselves

Shift the load from our shoulders

And weigh down another

To slow their speech,

Their motion,

Their agency.


Grasp the sand,

Hold it tight,

Do not let slip a single grain

Or risk

Unmasking

The arbitrary


The finger pointing to the moon,

Is not the moon.

Experiments with MidJourney and My Writing

I recently started working with the AI art generator MidJourney. Many of you may not know this but I have Prosopagnosia (faceblindness) and so I don’t visualize things the way that many people do. I’ve always wanted to create beautiful visual art, and photoshop helped me to get part of the way there but I never felt like I could create something from my words in a way that made sense for others visually speaking. The cool thing about MidJourney is that I can take my own written work, poetry and prose, and create something visually unique.

I am looking forward to using MidJourney and potentially other AI software in concert with my writing in the future. There is so much potential to collaborate with AI and develop new and unique landscapes of thought and experience.

On that note, Everything in this post is directly inspired by one of my novels, my short stories, or my poetry. Often I simply entered lines of my poetry and the result are many of the more abstract imagines, such as the ship made of leaves, the teacup in space, and the skull rising out of the road.

Which are your favorites? Which ones do you think best represent my work? Leave your thoughts in the comments.


Pronouncement & Ruin (Poetry/Art)

This pair of poetry and art come together as a pair. The poem is titled, I Sat And Watched The Pronouncement Of The King For The Last Time and the artwork it inspired is titled Ruin. More recently, I’ve been putting the poems up on Tiktok but unfortunately this one is a bit too long for that format.

I Sat And Watched The Pronouncement of the King for the Last Time

I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

From a tower up on high

Little rose pedals cascaded below, showering corruption alongside their scent

From the eager promises lolling on the lips of a lunatic dictator

The crowd hung on every word

Oh my!

Could he rally such a cry

From tears and jeers of all those who loved him,

And loved to hate him.

But no one seems to be able to get enough of his blather

They consume his every word,

And let it bring warmth and hate to their hearts


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time.

For the queen held no power these days,

A living, moldering corpse, propped up by high fashion

Her distraction lives in the expectations of pomp and circumstance

A role model?

No.

A comedy,

A farce,

A prop.

Her righteousness is twisted through a veil made of her undergarments

We lust after her curves and seek to suppress her for our lecherous gaze

So we can make use of her body and discard it when finished

She’s not expected to perform anymore,

For her silence is more desirable.


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

When art hung in tapestries like dead hanging flesh on a rotting corpse

Its soul depleted for the pleasant, the normal, the expected,

Its lukewarm flavor brought to you by your favorite sponsor

Did you see them?

There, below the dais, the mistrals sat in rows of confused passion

Blowing trumpets, bent by the will of the dictator, to change their sound for his delight

And soon their skins will be stripped by the costs of commonsense

Their only sin, to create,

Instead of creating profit


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

When horses were quartered to feed the starving in the streets

So that the poor could dine on the less desirable entrails

And “use the whole animal.”

Undercooked and underpaid they gobble without napkins and nod in agreement when told,

No one wants to work anymore

All the while, the dictator’s allies swim in rivers of gold and blood

With naked slaves serving their whims

And women and children work in foreign lands to satisfy their superficiality

The lords and ladies dance until their decadence destroy all civility

And the enemy is exaggerated to hide their own extravagance

Squandering potential, they let others bet on a maybe, as they cross borders,

For More Empty Promises


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

As fires consumed forests faster than fracking could till the blood of the earth

And men sat in armor on pale horses, blaring lights and sound in the spaces where hope is barren on the storeroom shelves

Where those who protect water were doused and drenched until the last barriers crumbled

And no decency was left

They will die thirsty,

Drenched in the water they needed,

Sucking water from cloth, they will taste the dyes as their eyes close one last time


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time.

When the dictator’s corruption grew to great heights and fed on the flesh of all the loathsome worshipers,

As they cast the names of gods around like so many useless hens clucking

When outrage was worth its weight in gold among the bards of the king’s courts, where they made empty promises to capture a captive audience

And whispers of ‘Gods’ will” gagged those who would speak against his crimes

For what is divinity but tyranny,

When they quack about “the Secret”

When change is promised at every step if you just visualize harder,

But theft was the only true golden rule.


I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

For the torches are already burning in the hands of those who see the truth

And the trumpet trumps his lies when blown from below

Where the wisdom of crowds grows in magnitude

And so, I sat and watched the pronouncement of the king for the last time

For his end is at hand