After defecating
no tissue to wipe
our buttocks
no dry leaves to clean
our hands
no water to wash our
body
the government promised
the tissue

But their promise is christ
second coming
thousand years elapse
no sign of fullfilment
flies feast on our feaces
gurnor chased away

The air is Carbon (iv) Oxide
feaces taint it
when is the true Messaiah
coming?
Perhaps! God is the answer
the mother hen will protect
her children against the hawk

At dawn
the dogs swallowed
our feaces,leaked our hands
The answer is God

They're burning the stubbles of yesteryear's fields
Before ploughing.
Walls of fire around every farm.
Smoke blends with the smell of pig's furtilizing manure,
And whenever my nose wrinkles up
I remember my father's words:

It's the result of millennia of agricultural tradition.
It's the smell of money.
It's the smell of soil to bread.
It's the smell of something far more important
Than nasal comfort.

He had me at
-Where he should have said-
*Organic.

Roll up, there's another piece on sale
of rotted trendyness, in absence it prevails
sitting atop the throne of a plucky survivor
my mind useless, my body designer

I'm not a hero, I'm not a ***** - probably both
changing skin like fashion, both corrupt and gross -
oh do you like my hair, my bulging ****** excess?
I moisturised my face today with feaces and ground insects

eyes diamonds swamped in a pool of lies
followed by a scent of longing whilst inside swarms flies
thinking we know beauty, we ****** for fear others will take
but on the outside its easy to fabricate, to fake

I smell of roses today, oh yes I'm soo exquisite
killing in the name of love, juvenile and disgustingly delinquent
destroying myself to create a new persona I can own
but how can you have something that's already gone

one thousand suits I have with no happiness to show
I'll sell you a million, it's in desperation greed grows,
smiling sweetly as I descend into the land of sensual dreams
whilst inside my morality fits and screams

there's another piece on sale
no longer fashionable but frail
dragged from the tears of an unlucky survivor,
my mind's useless, my body bedazzling

*oh I'm designer!

technology will destroy mankind
i remember said my father
and earth once more will itself find
being a planet like any other

shaking off the human species
as it's greatest curse
tumbling clean from all their feaces
through the universe

so much harm have people done
and evil comes from invention
one day i'll tell this to my son
when i'm on my pension