Untitled

I don't even know where this came from. I just spat it out one day. And for the life of me I cannot think of a title that would do it justice, nor can I be bothered with capitals or punctuation.

those great monoliths
sprung up
hideous mirages
borne of a thirst we never knew we had
until we saw it
shimmering, beckoning
a haze of desirous glory
displaced livestock moan
as they are shipped off
and axed into the Golden Arches
they longed for home
and they return now
their legacy in a brown paper bag
downed and rotting
in stinking bovine acid
churned, excreted
jiggling in giggling bellies of chubby toddlers
grasping for plastic junk
that is worth more
than the hands that built it
... so they say
this temple of gleaming marble and fluorescence
inside you forget the day
time is irrelevant
that hole in your pockets
don't worry, you'll soon have a spare
nothing ages here
every soul leaves a piece of itself behind
but they are swept up overnight
added up
little posts by doors count them
while faceless suits and ties chuckle
rub their hands together
they salivate, teeth chomping
humanoid machines
every day is the Sabbath
come fill your empty soul
worn down
buy a new one
but always come back
cheated,
sold a dud
forget where you put it?
oh well, who really needs one?
it's not what you really came for
it's not how you get ahead
join the ranks as they march to the beat
of someone else's drum
beating out of time
but some rhythm is better than none
parks used to be our solace
now we waste away idly
oh, don't look so accused
it is the truth
i know. i am there too.
watching myself, watching you
Marx stands by, shaking his head
he sighs at his own ignorance
over a world that did not collapse
it needs no support but envy and the American dream
the escaped old man sits in his hut
but he is lonely on the fringe
divorced from the mechanical heart of his fallen comrades
hypodermic civilization
hopeless addicts
this is it
it has swallowed us
it can spit you out
momentarily, you can find fault
but it is not afraid of regurgitation
a vile creature
but such a pretty face
and seductive smile
she talks behind your back
you're never good enough
but you love to impress her
caught up in her wake
money is our deity
don't pretend it's not
you go to church on Sunday
but where are you when you're not?
do your sons and daughters remember
the late night kisses,
post-bed times whispers
melancholy lullabies deaf in their ears
tales of excuses and "it's for the best"
as you swallow your guilt
promise to change as your turn down the sheets
but back in the corporate grind
come morning, it dripped back in with your coffee
that wipes back the sleep fuzz
false energy
false mind
it's not your own
that was sold with an invisible gavel crash
pulled from the block
slave to a faceless master
you don't dream anymore
ah, but i, ever the foolish hypocrite
i don't detest it
intoxicated i creep from one corner of the earth to another corner
only to find they look the same
and i don't care
i have my latte and a comfortable place to call my home
One Nation under *god
land of the free market capitalism
and once home of the Braves
built on a graveyard
it's ghosts forgotten
and the real God cries in the souls of all men
only to be lost again