Though what animals know is instinctively true,
all living and dying essentially the same,
from boredom and fear we escape to the new,
yet suffer this sense of harmony lost
that our stolen brains will somehow reclaim
as bodily salvation whatever the cost
in secrets we twist for these technical lies
say the conquest of death is our predator game
of fences and knives for slaughter we must
demonstrate our dominant omniverous high
addiction to images of riches and fame
are the symbols of ego survival we trust
those computerized orders to sell and buy
synthetic food of familiar brand names,
our subliminal chains by TV ads tossed
around any answer whenever we try
to curb the appetites we cannot explain
how modern science got double crossed
by market pollution of land, sea and sky,
revealing this peculiar absence of shame
as we grind her bare bones to toxic dust,
too deep in denial to ever say why
or what made us the way
this planet may die.

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John Talbot Ross