All talk no action
Accountability
not even a fraction
Surmount humility
Profound inaction
Abound rigidity
Tall walk short stature
The American way
Work force pays for the
CEOs big payday
Do as I say
Not do as I do
Under the guise of
"we want to improve"
It's so easy to see
their ego's fragility
with the words they use

Technological giants

We learned early

How to command our angels

To ascend higher than our sins

They offered us immortality

In exchange for our planet's wealth

And naturally

We signed on the dotted line

Like spies selling

Secrets to the enemy

But here we are now

With the well run dry...

We live a sober life, enough
is enough for me, and reserves
are necessary according to you

Everything is insured, luckily
no loans, we are working hard
because otherwise one has nothing

The children have their own lives
they won't take care of us
and are already asking for part

of their portion of inheritance, but it's stuck
in stone, in vaults, and in your head
that also wants to cover the coverage

People should grow up
and take care of themselves
reap their own harvest

though we could share more
relying on mutual aid
not just on our own character

in which lies the seed
the seed of greed
Our fear

When the wars of men
Shall finally end
Will the lands still be green
Bejeweled with floral adornment
And the mighty seas spirited
In their azure echo of the skies

Or will it reek like the woeful demise
Of a fateful unfading resolve
By the mortal greed of folks
Sedated in devilish hoax

some people have with dominance
possession  power and control
looks like a rather desperate reaction
to the widely known
     but mostly unacknowledged fact
that we are unable to control our lives
and live them as we have imagined

Climbing clouds on calamitous clouds
Which break underneath my feet.
Feat of power feast of kings
Milking blood from the plump vine discrete.
They tear man from limb and brother
For judges to goblet just few.
How was anyone to know
I reach for the smaller of the two.

Well, the usurer

was generous, nonetheless --


Was it his money?

~
I work in the clouds
Building a world out of hype
I could be a beekeeper
A prison guard
Reverse pop idol
Extinguishers, all

Hackers ferry contemporaries
Around the diseased city
Merchants of transference
Polymorphing
Paths and angles
Pieces of eight

They could be brutal war fantasies
White noise translations of the snow
Cathedral nights in the deli
Ghost recordings from an opera house
Each with its own price tag

All the pretty girls
Thick with mascara
Go to plasticity
Drink chloroform
100 aspects of subterranea
So long as they come home
With a credit problem

Money devotion
It's what transferred us
Into numbered silhouettes
Slavishly pouring our blood into the sea
~