Consumption by Consumption to Consume

March 31, 2017


The crazy rabble catching capital trouble,

Rouble or dollar, blue n white collar

Lean virulent servitudes; renascent slaves

Make trade beatitude

Postmodern blacks installed in racks, perfunctorily paraded

To a once-a-day-dance pistol shoot – The Wild Wild West!

High harvest home of honour high, accompt philosophy,

Heritor of garbled-massages of garbaged Christian kindness

True Troth turned out like empty trouser pockets;

Now - how to rob one’s neighbour

Great pack on back like Pilgrim, enters in the push

Towards an electric, Napoleonic, multiplex

Preceptors, drugged by fumes of branded things,

Gone singing forth applauding next technologies

Demotic mummers drunk on lyrics unstoppering only hype,

Jam ham, shambolic-seasoned, acolades; your topmost Oscars

Assurance of postures of impostors, fantasy tomorrows,

Flogging the daylights out of barrow pledges

Wearing out beggars’ half-cocked hopes; half-mast and keeling over,

Sunken on drunken beds, dead-heads the Feds de-liberated

With lives of lottery commodities as goods; sly Hoods

Keep hold the cash to shower as dower a crapulous pursuit

The one thing needful holidays its health in jeopardy

Amerikay that saint and quaint antient regime:

Its scheme to waste with every haste all sober measure

A nightmare dream that’s passed between in getting treasure

A Scylla overplussed with junk unbounded

And sharp Charybdis turned and loured the other side where crawls

An once to pounce, or whether suffered saintly

Sense yet sustains, goes spare, or insurrection

Proves argument against full gas balloon despair

Chaotic looms the landfill USA; uphung on swanny leisures

Seated at fat and clowny sets, stare wearing donkeys’ ears

Eating and watching, abiding, clutched, by ticking time that feathers

Forever away existence

Castelar captives shares of loot fill simple houses

Palatial dungeons steeped in legion creature comfort

As if coralled pet animals; overgrown woody vegetables

Root into concrete soils whiles boils the world away

A saucepan left on hob, its stealthy quiet job

Unfolding scalds unseen, turning from green, replaced foreseen,

To ochre wastes a world made carnage fritters.

As this, is conjunct verity for all that glitters,

It must proclaim the dooms, destructions, lust delivers

This poem is also posted at steemit.