Monkeyed
Slacks suits
Tailor, to imprint
On silicone skin.
Drawn up hems,
Caress all manner
Of brushed down hair – flashed,
In the hope
That Godless salvation,
Will empty
Their wretched lives,
Into another’s cup.
Transforming
That given face,
Into the latest magazine mask.
Abandoned by light and sugared by thorns,
Youth declare meaningless wisdom
As the basis to their body’s vacant room.
And somehow, this has come to stand
For modern insight – hard driven inspiration;
Even though, none of the words
Challenge reality,
And the Oracle
Of the Room never replies
To the half hearted questions,
Posed by a whole generation
Of self strangled,
Still born adults.
Our life giving Spark,
Has media mutated
Into a naked Primate,
Dressed in plaid
And given to shouting,
The ego’s own chant – “Who do I love? Myself!”
So much for the archetypal need to look beyond –
To seek out lyrics, folklore and fairy-tales.
So much for ionic philosophy and religion –
Or the desire to produce instead of consume.
The ‘Y’s, no longer know how
To fill the Void
When the camp fires go out.
Instead, they catch themselves
Staring off into the distance,
Dreaming up nothing,
And hoping that their magical consoles
Will re-ignite tomorrow,
Allowing the world
To offer up Noise! – More blessed Noise!
Such an approach, was once an anathema –
Known to regress our species’ evolution.
But now, all manner of glitter balls take centre stage
Locking in the legacy –
Of talons for the sleek, manure for the brave!
Audio Version (To Be Added)
New Word (Monkeyed – adj. regressing the evolution of one’s own species.)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 2006