Culture Cumpolsion

So we called the worldly priest,
So he said the worldly rules,
So we’re all scared in west and east,
So he showed us our roots.

They were standing all around him crying,
They said adieu to their loved bride,
They traded money among holy chanting,
They followed the way of their tribe.

The crowd gathered below the throne,
The crowd heeded the way for living,
The crowd bowed and lent the charity loan,
The crowd earned points to meet heaven’s king.

She moved off her meditation mat,
She picked the phone to gossip the way,
She talked away for hours on rants,
She’s but good for meditating in a parrot’s fray.

The herd gathers to enforce the tribe’s way,
The herd lives killing merry of new paths,
The herd is the core of the culture’s tray,
The herd makes us safe in the savannah grass.

I think like a lonely child learning my ways,
I make attempts to mend with the dualities,
I think of making truce with the culture’s grays,
I think if this is culture then I’ll live off its frailties.