The Pleasure Dome

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The hamster wheel it spins around

To transmographic dolby sound

The lights go out in castle home

The Prison of the Pleasuredome

 

Too many on a fallen trip

That ends in nothing but a slip

Into a plush velour-lined cave

With loop-piled footsteps to the grave

 

The box set series shows narrate

The day from which you ruminate

More phantom losses, pains and fears

(Your kids plugged in to ward off tears)

 

You feast on plastic e-delight

To whet a scripted appetite:

The sonic pings and muted pops

Cook mass-created lab-made slops

 

No respite from the talent shows

Your ignorance of your light grows

All languished-out in Stepford bliss

In life-resisting uselessness

 

Not synced with physicality

Your consumer lobotomy

Dictates the path which sets you free –

The shopping mall on Sunday’s spree

 

How many tiny hands have toiled –

Whose raw potential have you spoiled?

Your retail therapeutic gain

Belies an object born of pain

 

So scared of who you might well be

You forge a false identity

You never look inside to find

Who lurks within the gated mind…..

 

The mind who tells you what to buy

Who to impress, whose goods to try;

That fine consumer panoply

Has made you rush for therapy

 

So what are you at Nature’s end?

A packaged carnal overspend?

A homage to a life less pain:

The kernel of a programmed brain.

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018 

Pass the Parcel

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Looking out from the clifftop into the big blue yonder

Me a small fleck

In a world that gives no feck

Still in innocence and wonder

 

I am gifted with choice and discernment

A present which I leave unwrapped

For to open it would be to accept the dance with grace

That unsafe music that I don’t want to face

 

Perfection shines its halfbeam of halo’ed light

Obscuring the shadows of the night with its sodium glare

Leaving Resistance the winner in a game of risk

That has not even started

 

Time slides moments my way

Dealing chips with the artful promise of a blackjack dealer

My possession and strategy is but the daydream of acquisition

So they fall from my grasp

Like grains of sand

 

I roll the dice and play

Ridden of existential confusion

Alongside matchstick men and women

Brittle and wooden

Hungry for the spark that sets them alight

 

Back in the game

The stakes are high

But it is time

And I’m too old to play

Pass the parcel

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018