capitalism the consumer
swallowing whole to fill a gaping wound of the spirit
no sense of balance
hunger trounces the victor
with bags and loads of money
his pale facade revealing
the reeling retreat
of one needing to eat once again
twice in a morning
while those left staring at the gaping wound in the dirt
near the once clear river
no water to drink or drip into gullies of seeds
the victor agreed to bring water
which is carried along
wrapped in thinly veiled toxins
dioxins masquerading as art and design
shards of the new pottery
lining the stomachs of dolphins
those ones standing there near the water
they can’t drink
are left with no lunch
after seeing no breakfast
the rest of the day spent in anguish
while the victor plays golf on the green

bees lean on each other and gasp