Objects Outlive Us: The Buddha of the Modern Age

The Buddha of the modern age

Is barely paid minimum wage

To dole out truth and healthy karma

The same he gave to our forefathers

When once we reached to touch

The sky, now we have no need to try

The blurred photos of ghosts of men

Such permanence, we don't comprehend

Slaughter the sacred cow

To stuff our stupid mouths

Already fit to burst through the insatiable thirst

To kill over and over

We interlopers, the inferior species

Wallow in our own feces

Gazing down at our navels and no longer able

To find some kind of perspective

Amongst all the invective glory

In pathways of dopamine until time intervenes

Rabble struck down, dementia or overcome

Stampeding but we have no need to try