Nearby, in local abandons, black smoke rises from cranial vaults
and stimulant gases silently diffuse their way
into the comfort zone of the masses,
slowly awakening them from their hypnotic stupor.
Under my feet, I hear the quickening rubber skidding on my soles
and I feel the heat as my shoes slowly melt to my skin
Here we are,
marching along this consumeristic treadmill
of hedonism and greed,
trekking above the radiant fire of oppression
hiking up the rugged mountains of debt
one hourly wage at a time.
Yet, underground I feel the rumbles
and the tremors of revolt
In the libraries and coffee shops
I smell revolution in the air
Off in the distance,
With overfed eyes and starving ears,
I hear earbud transmissions
of anarchy and uprising.
Day after day,
I catch a glimpse of covert action
or hear the whispsers
of the pending upheaval
that will crumble and corrode
the gears of modern man.
Momentous yet fragile gears,
well-maintained and supervised,
bathing in a lube
of caffeine and Lexapro
Xanax and Viagra
A conveyor belt
of financially mechanized cogs
steadily turning the wheels of tyranny.
I feel a stampede.
Here come the sub-terranean delivery men
of rebellious injections
both local and widespread
Here come the interstate riders,
both wind-blown and sun-worn
Here come the internodal vaccinators
to sting the cancerous core
With their hefty napsacks
and dirt-drawn death-maps
Swift Riders
bringing freedom
to the meek and the mindless.
