Gotta wake, gotta wake from this
enchanted state on the advent of
consumerism leaping the gate
my inbox spills
from cyber trills
every predilection I have hosted,
I’ve boasted, raised my glass
and toasted. Hey, I never realized
all the damage done in my name,
drone bombing of innocents, spun,
–oops, a mistake,
for heaven’s sake.
All the data packets waiting
for some space
We gotta clear and cleanse
all that old stuff gotta go.
Gotta uncoil this lust for oil.
Make amendments to our inner soil.
The plans to foil unconscious tracks
gotta wake gotta shake
these boots from our backs.
Like Indra’s net, we reflect
the fractals of our beauty rising up from neglect
when we connect
with love unchecked.