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Green Machine

Open your arms, open your eyes but do not always believe the touch, the sight, truth’s flame cornered by the night, we tread down our paths with care, with fright. Our monitors burn bright with toys and guns, to plastic banks we run for that rush in our minds leaving reason behind; while admen conjure more ads, more signs. Every spark painted-on CGI every brand-name trademark displayed before the eye, bowing deep into receipts piled haystack-high, we’re not quite tall enough for that one last ride, to ebay we bid good-bye.
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Written by
dan-schell
American
For You?
Written by
dan-schell
American
Published
Oct 4, 2011
Lines·Words
24·91
Notes

Published Nov. 2010, National Gallery of Writing, National Council of Teachers of English

©2010 – Dan Schell

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