Tight jeans fit tight bodies.
Hemlock vines grow from every lawn.
Where the Green God’s lure enraptures the heart.
Steals humanity from scarlet phrases -
Calling with drum beats, heart beats:
Boom..Da..Da! Boom..Da..Da! Boom..Da..Da! Boom!
They march like Soldiers.
Lead by this green God - Money.
Whose son is Vanity.
Daughter is Shallowness.
His wife, the seductress is on television, calling all to court.
With the promise of more things to a populace who already possess too much.
Not understanding why they feel so empty inside, un-fulfilled.
How they find themselves captured for a moment by the sun as it rises, orange and large.
Only to shake the notion of such beauty off as one of those fuzzy areas not already defined for them to comprehend by 5th avenue.
Tight jeans on tight bodies, emptiness within.
An emptiness they’ll never admit to, except in the darkness of night.
While they lay in their warm downy soft beds.