By Atlas Roark
Holy Wars?
Holy shit!
Does that make sense?
Where is
this monster going?
One surely is
the loneliest number
but dharma's toughest
at the core.
50,000 lives
per hamburger helper;
the Samsarian wheel
is ridiculously precise.
What happens after
your spoke has peaked?
It's quite a plummet
towards unprecedented
nadirs as we're soon to see.
Ha! Nosterdam-ih-sizing.
Is that a word? - fuck it.
We're caught in
the putrid tide of this
regurgitation nation,
capitalist stirring stagnation.
"Generation X?!" -obscured
sheeple, too wrapped up
to think or worry
about anything
beyond the cellophane.
Jesus! Y? and Z?
What comes after Z
God damnit?
Maybe just a few
more millenia-eras.
What should we expect?
Psychologically profound,
"My God, my Com is down!"
these silly numbered dawns
we're in spawn
frightening apparitions.
Hollywood's apocalyptic dreams,
military schemes,
a church regime -
"Get me NASA please!"
Frightening death disease.
Clintons done us in?
Are we the joke
choking on petty
goods we squabble for;
greedily pushing the,
combine-like thrashing-
consumption contraption
over vast a precious soil,
devouring and scabbing
all and every
in its wake?
Soaking in its
malodorous siamese twin
we bask in
un-devoted leisure,
drink the seclusion
chained to fake theater
in a bellowing black box
with its metronome
commercials.
Addicted to sitting,
among all the rest.
Cocaine politics?
The pigs feast on sheep?
Fuck, bad grades
don't seem so bad.
"Oh yes! 'Friends' is on!"
Time takes care of everything;
for good or bad I guess.
Take your pick-karma sticks.
(moksha!)
Dean Moriarty hit
the world hard with
his weird friend Sal.
It'd be nice to wear
one face for awhile.
Four a day or more
wears like ocean floors
when you've got
no will or wit
inside witless chores.
The fitness fed specialist.
"But look at all this progress!"
This 100 year push,
preternaturally pillaging,
has lead up to atavistically
barbaric and fundamentally wrong
humanoid cloning.
The Bible blabs of bar-codes.
Maybe a shiny metal rocket
will be the next Ark.
Can I please be Noah?
History repeats and
empires deplete
into the dust beneath
their history book shadow.
Human nature -no, rather
just plain nature prevails.
Nietzschian thought
is as cold as the truth.
Where to end this? How to end?
What to end!
Just end.