Irregardless

Regardless of regardless.

What’s the inverse of regardless?

To hold in least regard and

Then ignore this oversight.

(As if the word existed)

We must first reverse perception,

Ignore all that exists,

And then as if it did, proceed.

If we ignore that which exists

And then pretend we didn’t,

Then we embrace all that exists,

And look at it and see,

What are the consequences,

Disregarding all this chaos,

Of thinking the unthinkable,

Unpacking the illogical,

Regarding them, like favorite shirts

We’d hung up, to un-wrinkle.

But if we look at “irre-“

Not as negative, perhaps,

But rather more Germanic,

More Teutonic, like this man,

Then aren’t we talking madness?

For an Irre is a madman,

And irren is to be mistaken,

Wrong, to be in error.

That’s where we find ourselves today,

For we have been beirrt,

That is, led down the garden path,

Misguided or misled,

At least a portion of us

(seems, a third is all it takes—

The flock must follow those who

Seem to know the way to go.)

But for a shepherd, now, we have

A lunatic who guards us,

Our guardian, of all that’s precious,

All, that we hold dear.

We may as well be guard-less.

There’s no guardrail on behavior.

The garden border stops no weed.

The guard tower shoots us down.

A crazy madman holds the till,

An unrelenting Ahab,

Who searches all the oceans wide

To find his great white whale.

And we the crew must do

His bidding now, though we don’t like it,

With little solace—just a jug

Of whiskey Triple X.

And some of us will snitch,

And some will cozy up to Captain,

And others, to our detriment,

Be forced to walk the plank,

With miles and miles of sea around

And not a friend to help us,

You’d better keep your nose clean,

Don’t look up, and swab the deck.

Although perhaps, a few of us

Would rather go abirren,

That is, we’d rather wander off.

And like a hermit, hide,

And make our own reality

Our communistic cabin,

Where none can contradict us,

None can spoil our pristine view.

But “irregardless of the outcome”

Means, despite our error;

It means, with madness tinted,

And mistaken, and confused;

Misled, yet glad to follow

Where the merry Piper leads us,

Or cower, in a hermit’s lodge,

From long-awaited bombs.

It means we can accept small things

That threaten our existence,

It means we can accept that some

Are bigger than the law,

And some have no real right to live,

Much less, be free or happy,

For in the logic of our madness,

All that’s true is false.

For other apocalyptic poetry, read Dystopia Today and Horsemen.