Civilization is still at a skin-deep stage. (Don't know how to retain the original format of the poem.)
Maquillage Civilization
Come ! Quick ! Quick !
Cover up the tracks !
That lead to my doom
Even the lynx watches blear-eyed the bald-eagle
badgering badgers waddling down slithering marshes
Curling wisps of mists torn shreds of time
hug low down by dripping pines
And I wonder at the long lost lines of pre-Stone Age Cave Men
who have long preceded my own
Come! Quick! Quick!
Cover up the tracks!
Am I the Cloned Monster of my dreams!
Fierce thoughts warp my mind on wild backs
And make my hand shake through weird themes
Say, how many eons ago
Did this entrenched sea-begetter of mine
Binding metallic force on madraged muscled ego
Take shape to terrorize the brine
How many the magmatic engines hide under my gnarled hide
I hear them growl and grind in my bowels
Fizzing comets drill through memory-compressed neurons
And foist the thoughts boil-caged in my veins
Who are the unkempt ogling and babbling baboons
Prising libidos through rousing neck-biting sex-twined clashes
through gaping maw
Come streamlined in a many-laundered thing
The downward civilizing trek
The paint on the wall
held firm by the poisoning lead
Come! Quick! Quick!
Cover up the tracks!
Nothing changes like Change!
The Monster who lurks under the skin
Is still the Master of my whims!
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