the rich bold and beautiful all boast

blood baubles from Antwerp,

safaris in the Serengeti

fast and furious Grand Prixs



while the poor, the old and the dutiful

with gawping gaze anesthetize their own reality

with need-2-know exploits

of the Holy Star,

the Glory-bound Globe,

the Eternal Enquirer

or other such rag-mag daily planet regalia

as pitiful pulsebeats of disengaged hopes--

world society will

soon be a ghost come back to life. . .



the entrails of debt mark the boundary

between eerie tales of two nations

sharing the same burial grounds,

one rich and famous,

the other a financial minefield

while the middle class is a myth in America,

this Halliburton dream comes true

as investors cleanse their conscience filthy

in pools of camel spittle

while squeezing essential oil of sand fly

used to scent bones, empty of marrow,

facsimiles of flesheaters' human remains,



so come one, come all, those who were party

to the layoff for the sake of corporate ravens who

tenderize our souls with the lie of the week

"Extra-Extra!!!" read all about it if you believe in

no child left behind. . . soon to be spin-doctored

at a redlined newstand near you.



© 2004 by cynth’ya lewis reed
All rights reserved. Cynth'ya Lewis Reed at the Authors Den