Went on down to the station,
looking for a brand-new nation.

Looking more, less was found,
chasing tail round and round.

It seems all had melted in the pot,
ameliorated, on the spot.

Was no spice, no life, no grit,
tasteless bread pudding,
was all you get.

Where was the verve, the drive, the gall,
to figure it out; to conquer it all?

Survival had settled into a rut,
pruned the tree of every last nut.

All were living the proper prepper life,
boiled down to just, avoiding strife.

Sucking along on the corporate tit.
one-size-fits-all is what to get.

Couch potatoing a fantasy world,
where virtual stimulation is unfurled.

Just cruising along into stagnation,
riding the rail to amelioration nation.

Gruel by Bamber

Bowl of Gruel © Bamber

Once again I thought I'd write a nonsense poem.
But, thoughts of the old movie, Soyient Green,
popped into my head as I thought of our melting
pot turning into a single, boring, plain existence,
arriving only because of the threat of a corporation
(a huge monopoly) being the only source of our
existence. Certainly a flat earth kind of existence
that no one would desire.

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Copyright 2015 © Ronald W. Hull


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