Silence Is the Killer
On the corporate gloss sold as substance — and the quiet that lets it pass.
There’s a kind of hollow that mass-produced ambition makes. You can feel it walking through certain spaces — the polish, the slogans, the way nothing said is quite a lie but nothing said is true either. This poem is a small refusal.
The obedience ingredients
Play out like rubber souls
Mannequins of corporate greed
Are sold to us as bold
I can’t believe this place we live
It gets worse every day
Silence is the killer of
A bright and better way
Silence is the killer — not because saying something always helps, but because the absence of saying anything is what lets the rubber souls pass for the real thing. The brave move is sometimes just the small, specific refusal to nod along.
— JTC