Artisan by Dan Joyce
The Satellite Earth
“The world is a cancer” wrote Henry Miller. I seek to redefine, I smoke to redefine, I kill the czar, I kill capitalism, I kill Christ to redefine. Who is the angered soul? Who smokes Marlboro discount cigarettes to shed his fat… Who loves to love his lovers, who loves to redefine, who compromises his standards, who lack morality, who paints her nude and posts her, who sings her love songs and writes her verse. Why does she so question who cannot love seeking virtue? Who lay in bed and used for sex and prides me her companion. I tell you this there is no God but madness and madness rules the world. I felt a tear fall near the battered foul seeking comfort by Laguna Lake. The blue gill pond polluted. The child force-fed her pollution vomit on the floor. I never ate fish again. We are a cancer, we are dying, the satellite earth.
We are castaways lost here left here on the Satellite Earth
Like rats we pollute ourselves until we can no longer breath
Global Warming is a joke? Factories, manufacturing robots
To replace the proletariat, common man controlled by
Pirates of the dollar. Adam can you hear me? What was your sin?
The pigs of Maseilles guillotined to Stalin from the Czars
Jefferson to Nixon. Who killed Kelly Thomas?
They meet in corners, pot smoke and newspapers to convict
The police. Children wail desperately tear gas and billy club
We are rebirthing the Viet Cong. In the killing fields of suburbia.
There is no peace in our world. I love you.