I’m sitting here feeling bright 
Home with the family 
Conversation is easy and light 
And then on comes the telly

I try to talk over its 
Loud and aggressive tone 
Political talk shows cutting
Razor-slicing through the calm 

I want to look away
From this soulless carnival
But the addiction to this madness 
Is deep-rooted, farcical

Dante would have short-fused 
A few neurons, chomped some grass 
To see the Inferno he’d imagined
Come so brutally to pass 

Sartre would have grinned 
In self righteous satisfaction
Hell really was other people 
And their insidious interactions 

Nietzsche would have conclusively 
Summarily declared
That we’ve given up on heaven 
And created hell instead 

Turning in his class-conflicted
Grave would be Karl Marx 
Seeing history do its rewind 
As tragedy and then as farce 

Freud would have slyly winked
And then chortled cheekily 
To watch our IDs and EGOs
Play out their crazy fantasies

The philosophers and sages 
Of times gone by, days of old 
Are seeing the fruition of
Their theories, mad and bold 

So now I’m sitting here feeling
Like the world has dropped upon 
My shoulders, pulverising me
Mind and body, heart and soul.