A thought.it reads:
A society of petty vanguards, he said
Was what in time we had become
From mere novelty innovation was dead
Freedom for license, the Many for the one
And the one in time, what had it become?
Once, he continued, man is individualized
Classified and set down in a grid
That each fills but one slot, commoditized
Unique in preference, history and id
But here the mask had slightly slid;
Group identity, and the much feared family
A criminal thing, the latter at very least
The former fine as long as in simile
It could be reduced to the very least
And with money its politic appeased.
These all had to go, in the name of freedom
As though all the sailors were cast aright
Into the sea to swim; and then right quick some
Life preservers were to be issued quite
Inefficiently but shown just and right.
The mighty states with machines for hands
Turned against one another in gray twilight
Ravaging the far and the nearest lands
Until the one came and set the might
To rest before the howling night;
Even these poets, who fought rightly against
This making man a pawn for play
Had for all their fury just recompense
For they had often helped the sway
Of these very men who won the day.
The one wears a mask of this poetry
Of sentiment about expressions new
And of man's undefinability
So long as no one thought or knew
A different definition true.
But beneath a mechanism cold
Knows what man is, as it hums
Slowly processes the young and old
And turns even mansions into slums
Until the King in all His brightness, comes.