Progress

Technology strangles sacred silence in a webbed environment of homogenized minds. The re-run, sped up, spliced out manufactured instant news that became water-cooler fodder, is forgotten by the evening's rush. Satellites spin fear's conditioning. No child is left behind from the horrors of drugs, booze, sex, buy, buy, buy or suicide or homicide as a cell-phone lies beside their Glock down the hall from the computer room. Machines strip mines, rape forests, produce oil to ooze through auto-junkie veins and pristine waters. It now costs money for our Advancing Civilization to go into a green park. Future progress is reflected in a nuclear glow shining over the dead landscape. Then, in time, the seal of the mountains' bunker will open to let out the perpetrators to start the cycle again.