It is more about our wit and
a level of understanding,
Than arches of concrete.
Let’s just leave those
To The Romans.
Worthy because of their
Sword slashing conquering army
Armed with Concrete and Civil Engineering.
Neither is this about drawing.
The Set Square is set aside,
As we all have our backs
Back to the drawing board.
Now we draw nearer
To absorption, becomming
Fools to want what we are offered.
Each a victim of the marketeer.
Absorbing the flow of imagery
And accepting the re touched sound
Piped to head receptors instead of eats.
We are so ready to buy into anything,
Who is it and what is it and where is it?
Artificial, virtual, vague and frequent.
Targeted to stay on message,
The benefit of Alchemy and of hardware
Those descriptions of fulfilment,
The purchasing power of deception.
Hot spot deciphering of habit and opinion.
The Algorithm of eternity sold as seen.
And the loss to humanity
Is the sale of purpose
Being swiped from memory
In a scan or a scroll, however
This place is the Dead Sea of the soul.
Life has become cantilevered.
An elbow, on a fulcrum, linked,
Via a spigot to the datum of the begining
Of the start of the whole of This Race.
Who so ever knows your mind
Owns your Will and therfore your Balance.
We are simple, so easy to own.
We have become employments slave.
And whilst before us waves a stick
We remain content with a small carrot.
(c) 2018 Christopher Thompson
for the advanced achieving institution