Lies, It's What's for Dinner

If you buy every dish they offer you, with sugar-dipped spoon shoved to your mouth,
your mind will be as soft as your middle, not hollow but filled with junk and shit,
too round to see your feet let alone be grounded.

If you believe the writing in the sky, your eyes will burn from too much light,
the lies blinding you to see beyond, a universe anew.

I am becoming a non-consumer of commercials and quips so cute.
Put away your kittens, your children in negligees, I am giving myself something real to sink my teeth into.

I am turning away from your buffet of limited choices to my own banquet of thought.
I do not need your stale Jesus on toast for the universe is always fresh, with ideas and magic, robust.

My mind has become stiff with entropy, stuck in GMO corn-syruped ideas
wrought with plagues of ambition for the filthy rich,
and you, you sit there grinning like you know the truth while the chickens noose is climbing your shoulder. It’s you who’s next buddy, winner winner, don’t eat that shit for dinner.

Wage a war on what’s left of your mind, push away from the table, like a stubborn child,
gag at what they offer you, show your disgust, fight for the smidgen of independence
left in your soul, travel abroad on your palate, learn new flavors, disgusting or serene,
take a new bite.