The Book of the Dead

Fractured bodies strewn amid the
mushroom cloud of ignorance
the battlefield belies the true seeds
that give birth to the power of deception.
The corporate leviathan devours the remainder
of our innocence
and barricades our tears,
as we lay violated
and we take our place
in the Book of the Dead.
Emerging as an ominous entity
of obfuscation
It invades our lexicon
a vapid conversation
ensues at every turn
and we weep
for what once was
the teeming lifeblood
of unpolluted
streams and forests.
And up we climb
the corporate ladder
to the clouds of
the omniscient.
The sunshine that ignited our souls
is covered in ash
as the ozone eviscerates
our vision.
Th e forks in the road of yesteryear
have collided
and there are no choices of light remaining
as the stage fades to black.
Th e voices of scrutiny
and the shrill cries of outrage
have been replaced with fear
that has encrusted the arteries
of dissent
and we weep just a little less.
A disturbing quiet
shrouds the landscape
of self-deception,
as the conveyor belts and combines
lay barren and silent.
Th e corporate microphage
distills the deafness
and we weep no more
for those who take their place
in the Book of the Dead. 

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