Strip away the house of ideas.
The heavy apparatus of moving parts breathe down our necks.
Each panel of thought mined until
we stand bare.
Children pulse w/ wisdom from within –
they are collected and reprocessed to formula.
The machines listen and wait –
crimes of conversation whispered
w/ fear.
Eyes appear next door
and on the corners.
A piece of architecture
disappears each day.
Sign posts of something new appear
(some say it is old.)
But grandparents must take their leave
to a town of their own.
Sunset cast soldier shadows
to march our poor street.
Bolts thrown on every door.
Masked behind and huddled at a
universal dot com.
A treatment for each night settles in.
Less and less we know.
No reward to remember.
Better off to let die,
a box of numbers can decide.
Promises sent from fiber optic wire
give the brain
easy sleep.
Little by little, truth was given away.
Here we are without what they sold off.
Raids made against distention,
penetrate deep into
our hearts.
Carefully secure thoughts
that are written -
they find a way to leak out.
When the men come knocking
it's already too late.
