Objects Outlive Us: The Buddha Of The Modern Age

The Buddha of the modern age
Is barely paid minimum wage
To dole out truth and healthy karma
The same he gave to our forefathers
When once we reached to touch
The sky, now we have no need to try
The blurred photos of ghosts of men
Such permanence, we don't comprehend
Slaughter the sacred cow
To stuff our stupid mouths
Already fit to burst through the insatiable thirst
To kill over and over
We interlopers, the inferior species
Wallow in our own feces
Gazing down at our navels and no longer able
To find some kind of perspective
Amongst all the invective glory
In pathways of dopamine until time intervenes
Rabble struck down, dementia or overcome
Stampeding but we have no need to try