The Beast swallowed money and corpses,
Gold bars, oil wells, stealth planes and Cokes.
It liked to swing its gut around,
Snatch the lunches of the poor, who are
Too skinny and malnourished now to put up a fight.
(It wasn’t an accident)
Heavier and heavier
Swelling stench of stale yellow sweat.
Swollen, bedbound, ten thousand glossy eyes
Trained on bright flashing colours,
Culture caught in infinite entertainment repeat,
Locked groove in the Universal Record,
Elective anesthesia administered as needed.
Muscles too weak to support,
Limbs twisted and tangled like chubby cables.
At first it took no notice
Of the occasional tiny pinch now & then.
But more & more the bites continued
Before long, tiny, hungry, vengeful insects swarmed around it.
By the time the Beast died they had stripped off all the fat,
Sucked dry the organs & peeled off every scrap of skin & flesh.
Until there was nothing left, only shiny, white plastic bones,
Blank flat screen eyes, still staring off into the yawning black abyss.
Still waiting patiently to be entertained.
–Jack Blare
jblareink 