Poems of social protest

The Trap

Silently sucking air
in from where the fruit flys float
Down via a circumodious vicus of recirculation
to where a disk sticks and flys die.

So too does capitalism suck us down to where we stick
Where money is all that matters
where money is the metric
Let go of the money and return to the air
where nature and love live and you can float and fly and finally breathe free

The Shame of it all

Tendrils of technology bind us together
better or worse?
Blessing or curse?
We share the news but use our tools to mislead fools
Why should we sink or care what others think?
Let the tendrils wither and stop the pain
We need to move to a place where the sharing is over a warm camp fire
and
not where the posts all come from liars.