for a slight change of paradigm...

Noah’s Yacht

… is anchored on a


Half-deserted island, a



Fiscal paradise decorated

With sunny beaches, lots of

Banks, jewellery shops and,

Of course, bespoke fuck-dolls,



Waiting their turn to be

Exchanged for the latest,

Creaseless model…



No Entry! Reads the austere sign

Warning those slaving away

At the flaking business decorum!



Lost is the tongue

Mother gave me

For birthday –



Before trading its

Quick silver for wood,

In half-hearted exchanges…



Quelle langue de bois

Turning humans into

Sociopathic resources…



Trained to obey,

Change course or

Go places,



Shifting gears

To faraway places,

Way behind well-guarded,

Barbed wire fences –



Bang goes my life!



Wasted by herds of

Pin-striped, white-collared

Drones, hedging their Ponzi bets,

Turning manure into gold



And water into wine,

The Trickle-down-my-spine

Effect is traded on the floors of

The Open Prison of Present –



Che Casino Capitalism

Is our Ghost-Modern Age

Circling the drain of Existence!