I feel my age these days
bones creaking
the need to be well-oiled
like some kind of
tin woman
all rusted
my metal parts
need refurbishing
then I could
have a new body
without dying
Be all bionic
and built like
a brickhouse
again...

Blessed are those
who spend money
on things
we have been dipped
into the holy cash
streams
of money worship
like fallen gods from glory
love disguised in the
sanctimony of commerce
And never buy mediocrity
from middle men
or those claiming they are
the masters of your soul
who will just
empty your pockets
avoid them as if
they are frauds
of the spirit
who may send
you to hell

They conjure up
Numbers from
the sacred air like
alpha shamans always do
saging poetics and
placing their hands
on the mouse of
your spine
just a page away
from nirvana
they say it would heal you
the old incantations
of an ancient
magic speaking to you
in tongues with clicks
layered in keyboard divination
they are here to say
you can illuminate
the world with love
laughing with your bellies