Of Living Dead: A Soul Poetry

Rising each day,

With hollow eyes...

Mechanical hearts,

And souls so dry.

A swipe of badge,

And the screen,

Be obeyed.

Constantly being

Watched...

Every action,

Is a mere click.

Trading our dreams,

For fat profits

For corporations.

Buy, buy

& repeat.

Hoarding our souls,

With empty promises.

No hunger for art,

Nor for truth.

Thus we stand,

Today as zombies...

Living Dead

Yet half alive.

In front of

This monster

Of consumption

And greed.

Fusion

Astannen sui aur,

gwaew hin lín, ú-glîn.

Celeg-hon nín,

ar fêdh nín narn.

Chebin i-mabed,

ar i-pân,

na curu.

Laur na ereb,

ú-chebin aníron.

Pân lín,

na gûr dadwen.

Gurth an naid,

an gwanûn beweg.

Aníron adan

ar fîr nín,

na bâr lín.

Ulû e-gwedith,

neledhi bain,

athaered o galad,

moeg nín gwanar.

End

Subject: Poetic reflections on capitalism and it's tendency to drain human essence and turn it into soulless beings much like the living dead.

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