(20 minute poetry)



They'll choose the advertising
to wrap up their lies in
and we'll open their gifts?  
that lift us from
doom

in martyrdom the peasants weep please advertise those things that make us sleep, in targeted bullets and pills they make the most of our ills to make the most of returns and the countryside burns with righteous indignation

'twas an opinion poll that told us so and we all know that
they must be right.


More fuel to the fire
the profits go higher
people go lower and
down on the scale.

We're being brainwashed
emasculated
neutered
tutored by
billboard
and
drained of all hope.

But I'd drink a tin with a bull on
If then I could pull on
a pair of red wings and
fly swiftly away.