Engine Of Commercial Gain © Surazeus 2023 01 24 Dull aching sorrow of the busy street, where cars glide past sun-blind windows of stores under tangled net of telephone lines, suppresses ambition through mute ennui because I have no place of secure work, discharged from engine of commercial gain. Dislocated from market of desire by invisible hand of corporate greed, I wander past windows of stock-full stores in vain quest to find my place in the world where I can extract value from the air through exertion of labor to create. If I clutch rifle of aggressive hope perhaps I could assert my hungry right with brutal expression of bestial power to exist and thrive in resourceful world where actions of rogue individuals prove law of the jungle rewards selfish strength. Yet as I lean against the white-brick wall, while trucks and cars whiz past me on the road, all visions of bold future enterprise performing my role in the cash machine dissipate like dawn mist in hot sun glare that agitates insects over dark lakes.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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