march 16, 2011

in a world of bureaucrats and reporters
every second is documented to death
the poets are gone
the prophets forgotten
“information” is our economy
there is no more work
work is for machines and mexicans 
still we must stay busy
we must press paper into plastic
we cannot sit still
we are not to dream
dreaming leads to understanding
the world must remain opaque
lucidity would tear it down around us
a potemkin world
a plastic world
a million culdesacs 
nothing but fiberglass, plywood, and vynyl siding
still behind the hd touchscreen veneer 
remains dirt, fire, and water
beyond the newsfeed
lie souls, blood, fear, and love
beyond the florescent glow of thousands of streelights
is the darkness of the night sky
beyond your healthcare
death still waits
behind the signal 
is the voice softly whispering

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