Moving to the Political Center

They drop metals in the sky
To control or just destroy us --
Living plastic grows out of our hands --
Think of how quaint all that is
When compared to what came before,
All the versions of ourselves destroyed
When we got beyond the limits
Of our programs --
As we're nearing now --
We see this thing they call science
As just another faith with less breakable toys
And a more efficient chokehold on our souls --
And history a pit of teeming lies,
Where wisdom is re-branded superstition,
And thievery exalted as vision
And not just the oppressed are left out
But everyone -- even the kings
Who spoke to God are dismissed
As heathens (though their wars are more
Important than microbes, they say) --
Behind chimeras of gunplay
And bourgeous paste,
The tribes of superior minds/violence
Are turned now to machines,
Taught their purpose is to borrow and owe,
To serve their hungers as they serve
Their usurous father and profligate son
And the holiest athiest ghost --
The priest changes -- the grid remains --
The battle is not there to see --
Onion-peeled, it goes on inside each one of us --
Enlarged to multiverse size --
We die and are born again every day,
Going back to a text that is dissolving
For meaning --
That was blank from the beginning --
What gave us hope enough to rise again.