Technoid Byzantium runs bereft of gnosis
on vanity crafted as TV prescription
that egos may thrill to pseudo-analysis
when truth itself a tool of deception
tarnishes the mirror of muted anguish
with turgid yearning for lottery's prize
and raging lust in exploding families
give lonely warriors a patriot disguise
to victimize death as mauve or ebony,
but cannot defend their carcinomic land
of twisted religions' paranoid sophistry
from the horror of darkened streets
where poverty exacts such instant reprise
murderous children sell terrible sweets
to all whose fervid ambitions arise
on toxic suppliers' consuming demand
that each manic merger's indebted equity
seduce beyond reach of any containment
their habits of vainglorious weaponry
outrun and exhaust the blundering emulant,
our capital gamblers Eastern strategy
to gorge the wreckage of hated commands,
crowing wealthy ergo healthy -
but unwise
that ecologies dying for debt
pay negative interest to traders
on twenty first century futures
of dead air, soil, water and cultures
trans-corporately wasting together
in a World successfully ruined,
and yet......*

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John Talbot Ross