Bull Market

                You are what you consume.
              That's what the ads all say!
            Possession of status is obsessive
                Don't own the Moon?
                Better get there soon!
                   And the new improved You
        Is just a few payments (plus interest) away!
            Don't be a bore, always buy more
                   And tell all how it feels
                To be a mass-produced trinket
            Obsolete before it reaches the door!

Quiet Please

For all this talk,         louder         and         louder
                        The world only ever gets worse.
                    This cherished "communication" is now
                Like a madman bellowing in an empty stadium
                    Trying to dominate a level playing field
For a game long since ended.

Cathartes - An Aura

                            I cling to the sky with silver fingers
        Bending in the wind,         swinging side     to     side
                                Precariously, with the confidence of the thought-irrelevant.
                As it swirls and rises, stale air wafts scents to me
Death, decay, stilled breath, rotting flesh - the delights of life!
                                                                I fall upon them, sky to earth, stoic to epicurean
                            Devour what others cannot, will not, should not
                            And with cutting beak sever the Gordian knot tying mortality down.
A few foiled thrusts return I to the blue
                                                                        Black on crimson, sunlight on a tilting mirror
          Reflecting one side,     then     the     other
                                                                                Of the inadequacies
                                                                                                Of the poor ground-bound.