BUSY is a BITTER WORD

All those have tos, oughts

and shoulds;

call it helplessly conditioned;

any excuse to opt out:

avoid stillness, silence, being

in favour of the heady notion

that we’re in control, masters of Fate -

or terrified of dying.

Let’s keep up the old charade;

it used to be termed duty -

a kindof virtuous, constant DO-ingness:

distracting from hopeless victimhood - surviving;

so we rush and dash about,

looking out for, looking after  

in endless sequences of fake Necessity.

A pseudo ungrown creature

masks the sacred Self -

an ego-echo labelled as ID:

 whose me, what FOR.

Too scary to contemplate.