The Solution

A little rotten meat won't kill you.
Just suck between your teeth and swallow it down.
The water in your tap carries the gifts of industry, solute!
The sheen of a lake mirrors mercury.
Now we've got a picnic.
Our table's recycled plastic. I wonder how that works,
while I enjoy the fetid breeze.
We need more fire!
We need to dig and find the mother of gold
and chain her for daily raping.
We need to mix the goos of life and science 
to be the gods we dream of.
All of baby's toys are made of poison.
Don't check the label. Smell it.
Smell the air.
Mother's milk's a cocktail, solute!
Only the metals are pure now and they are melting.
They are melting in the fire of plastic god dreams.
And they are melting into us.
And we are set; 
silvery statues lining the path of reason
as it gently curves around 
Through the express tunnel up its a*s. 
Smell the air of tomorrow.
Enjoy paradise.

Reviews

[Willard Wells]

Well penned my friend. In dark time of history mercury was given as a cure and now we are told plastic and water, it's alright because it has an acceptable level of death. What they are saying is the charts show the deaths caused will be within acceptable levels.

Lots of true ugliness within this piece and very well thought out.

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Willard. Ya, learn from mistakes if we pay attention. We can hope. Haha