The Wizard

Are you a buyer?
A maker of the street spirit?
Does the hope of monetarism, matter?
More than any hope of emancipation?

Futurisim redefined
neuro marketed as Liberalised
agenda to keep gaze wandering

proper gone

some of us
we gladly agree, but
society blanked out
in tipex dreams?

making an un marked grave
in a theme park
made by modellers

Tattoo you forever
pricked and labelled
for only those allowed to view

My Uncle Malcolm & Mr King
told me several things

if you are not master
you are starved
to be a slave.

Affection derelicts haunt the landscape
though skin difference
is no different to blue eyed
gene sterile hygeinic global modernity

are we not the tools?
we are not the tools.
We are the masters of destiny.
Deicide now is a prospector

on a killing field filed in
futures exchange mechanism

For the far flung omni hopeful
children built on nothing
more than yellow road
measure in ounces
soul pounds
out of the body

are we dogs or pets?
as we bow wow wow to
nano-bone offerings
veterinarian code punchers
decide who lives

censored brain activity
wards pain off irrespective
The cure was not modernity.
so why is the question asked even further?

follow the maze
along brightly colored
childrens ride
where people are assigned
to hold you hand

the arms of the feteous future
addicts will hold the tracks
of your trained tears
stored on changed DNA

forever & ever Amen Ra

The wizzard knows the way.