Vegetarian Manifesto

The shadows of the trees

Had lapsed into the growth of light

And the canopy was enveloped

In the traces of materialism

That crowded out the forest floor

Hence the fall from the fiscal cliff

The pinnacle of reason

Was a long groan

In the solitary contemplation

Of imaginary numbers

Expanding exponentially

The valley had opened wide for thy coming

And a shadow passed away from the trees

To the fringe of thy consciousness

And spilt the devil’s kiss

All over the concrete floor

Beneath which thy roots writhed in offense

’Las we’d sealed them from the light

To better garnish the appearance of things

In the impression of soft brush strokes

Splashed of sin upon the feign of dress

The mandalic derivative of style

A posture of liberal enlightenment

Veiling what fury

Seethed at the coy placation of tradition

The cowardice of moving with the shadows

As some respects towards the lights

Of the eternal flames of Hell

Their dark slumber an opacity that transcended

The translucence of God

His Ephemerality

 

And what death must glisten

In some human bead of sweat

That falls like glass upon the African savannah?

Beneath the watchful grazing of a golden giraffe

It shatters any semblance of a democratic morality

Through the journey of a tilled field

To the blood and sinews engorged

With the malleable guts of the wealthy

In a feast of shadows

The lack of guilt lending the appearance of new age kings

Upon those fed by the sweat and tears

Of the human machine

Commodities of pliable labor

Dreaming on a midnight star

That some God will find in their work a meaning

Aside the ambiance they never greet

Život, robota

Beneath a third world moon

A third person account for thee

Hustling white lines for Grace

The tills were carried over the great blue ocean

To mix with the hands

Held the red rum of domestic grazing

The lethargy of the sheep

In their posts at the whim of American greed

Praying to some God

That the masters will overlook their miserly existence

Covered in the blood of lambs

Long enough for them to die in Godforsaken peace

And the tender loins of their animals

They reached the gullets of the devils

Whom dined in the celebration of death

Having never felt the spirits of their sustenance

The blind caws of vultures

The pigs with their pork rolled out on a red carpet

A toast to the red rum

To close out the feast of shadows

And carry home in gluttony

The reflection of some Star

In that glistening bead of human sweat

Meeting the midnight river

And shattered like a cordial glass

Slipping the hands of the new age proletariat

Cannibals in some sense

Devouring the forgotten deaths

Of slaves not to themselves

But to some machinated new world order

Commanding the vultures

Not to bite the invisible hand that feeds

In the belly of human desire

An opaque reflection of king and slave

 

In the crystal ball glass bead mirror

I hold my vegetarian dish

Like a violin against my clavicle

And with a bowed wrist

Sound some motion for reconsideration

And so one less soul fulfills the destiny

Of that poor glistening bead of sweat

Fell off the back of the bête noire

And shattered thy humanity

 

 

 

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com