Hiss of the Snake

So far, the sincere social

sequence said: “stay

Superficial, strange, and stick

stuck to the staff of the so called saved.”

 

For the students of the superficial

search for souls in the sand,

they sink their incisors on squirrels and sticks

to sip the suburban scene.

 

Sale, sale, there is a sale,

For a sundered society simmering

With snakes filling the soaring city

saying a snooty” Shalom.”

 

Society salutes the selfish

because the selfish are saved

from the hissing hiss of the conscripts

of the sub-human minimum wage.

 

Cells, cells, we all are,

to submit to the superior.

Cells that mitose to worms to feed

the squawking social machine.

 

Soon, the young street zombies will

subscribe to Shiva and Solomon after

reaching fifty, but the sanctity of religion

 are masks of the cynical, sublimed, cellulite filled senate.

 

Society bigots the individual thinker

as an introverted side-minded social loner.

Solely, he is the only son of the soul

and the master of strife among the soldiers of the city.