HOMOGENOUS SAP(IEN)S.

There was an itch on the coating.
Somebody scratched it recently
And their finger went through,
Revealing nothing at all really
Except the ultimate expression
Of the uniform condition of man.

Not a single individual was aware
That the surround sound of their
Existence had suddenly altered,
And they continued to reproduce the
Actions invested in them by their
Grave new world without cover.

Somebody’s big mother had taken over
The land from the previous incumbent’s
Stir fried melting pot private parade,
And effectively convinced
Everyone that anything is possible as
Long as one is not excluded.

Oh and hopefully the headlines will be
Reflective the next day, and not some sad
Hack’s atavistic idea of the truth.
Which incidentally confirms the fact that they’ve
Now been advised it was all right in the first place,
But was not allowed to be consumed as it was marginal.

As I was saying, the milk in the carton is no
Longer supplied by bovine creatures but
By the artificial stimulation of women in their sleep.
This is not the perceived idea, but maybe
It would be an interesting one to display for
The baby weaners living in middle town.

Raging against the plastic scenery is about the size
Of it, but make the size of it not too
Substantial otherwise your child may be offended,
Or some other smaller creature under the
Canopy, that, once removed was quickly
Patched up and replaced, allowing me to go back to
The bar in the spare room next to the altar, where
We keep a bottle going, you know what I mean….