21 Jan 2016 – Sonnet

My soul is choked by all the dust it’s sold –
and I must feed? It’s duty to the State
to give back every gram of sweat-bought gold –
And doing this will once more make us great?
Homo Consumption – holes at front and rear.
No soul – or if there is – no ones’ concern
if it’s asleep and does not interfere
the payload as it crawls from stem to stern.
How inconvenient! What will flunkies do
if souls exist, grow restless and, awake,
upset the hegemony of the few
and start to live for more than merchants’ sakes?
Their lullabies hypnotic, magic spells!
How easy is it, dreaming here in hell!