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.
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