Fire and flood

We live in a time of fire and flood, where

Monoculture crop circles drain life blood into petroleum production

While living beings drown in the rising tide of man(kind?)

We live in a time where the flyness of your clothes is graded higher

Than the righteous of your flows, where

The nickel dime spit shine on those chrome rims, like

The flashing scythe of judgement held by a cloaked figure,

Can out sparkle the faded hollow holes where hearts are supposed

To beat liquid rubies to frozen, plaque filled arteries.

Silver disks spin fast and bright past

Florescent street lights with offering of broken liquor bottles

And grease soaked fast food paper bags scattered at their feet.

And all down the streets lay bodies of creatures, that were not human,

But still mattered. Their small fragile frames, flattened under the pressure of civilization.

The pressure of this insatiable human need to survive, whatever, means, necessary.

It was from our awakening sprung the fear of falling

Asleep again.

Now we walk in lines and circles,

Half awake,

Half dreaming,

Always aching and faking and making things happen,

Keeping up with production,

Wreaking havoc and destruction

And plugging our senses to numb the pain

Of living estranged

From the world whence we came.


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