I May Have Lost a Thread

This viral market eats its host
Father sunshine wholy toast
Time it steals from the wound inflicted
Open sores with sugar injected
What next will the vendor deliver
What banal lecture what moral sliver
Lightly sautéed and barely cooked
Half digested and overlooked

And here beneath the blue sky falling
The seller’s bluff the buyer’s calling
No more the sap who’ll buy the garbage
And be thankful for the holy privilege
Now we want a worldly warrantee
No trees destroyed no animal cruelty
No warpig gunships in cereal box offers
No oilfuck landfill for illegal coffers
No dusted corpses under dark agenda
No spineless newsmen relaying propaganda

Give us back that thin illusion
Of freedom won without collusion
At least then we can begin to cope
our hearts kept beating by a thread of hope


August 2006

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