eternal renewal,
overcoming the wreckage and ruin
brought about by man's fading storm.
“Ye Are Doomed!”
Ye are doomed! says I -
to shadowy blobs of humans
haunting smelly streets and dark painted malls
around the middle of the day -
or is it the middle of the night?
It all seems the same now
under the dark skies
the skylights
the lights:
People wandering aimlessly,
talking mindlessly
never speaking,
hearing noises passing for music,
or it could be traffic -
never listening,
for there is nothing, nothing!
Nothing worth listening to.
Life has ceased to have meaning
for the wanderers of the marketplace,
of the town square,
the strip mall,
the mall,
the Place that is now The First Home,
where the happy meal lives
and makes little ones
into bigger ones.
Ye are doomed! says I,
and ask to be super-sized.
A brave new world has arisen!
Give thanks to the Super Big Gulp
for taking away the pain
of unfulfilled chemical desire:
Let the Taste Bud Rule - this bud's for you!