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