2003-05-29 - 2:07 p.m.
People cry of pain and sorrow,
Dream of land and faith in morrow,
Haggard, shiftless, borne of bane,
Remote and pointless seem the sane,
Desheveled sands in dunes and bounds,
Frame the hourglass for hopeless grounds,
Print the message fro and nigh,
Disseminate to those up high,
Trimmed and proper weigh the words,
Far from those with pasteured herds,
Ne'er comes the tune for them embrace,
Wither comes their damning race,
Sagged placard papyrus laid,
Launch this and more irate tirade,
In the lines and between their ink,
Read the savage master's link,
You're doomed to know,
You're doomed to not,
Wherefore you care, your home is bought,
And thus the savage live afar,
In sands and stories lay their scar,
And thus their lives remain untold,
Until their very soul is sold,
And a savage message comes by and by,
Displayed in buildings high, so high.
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"Information can tell us everything. It has all the answers. But they are answers to questions we have not asked, and which doubtless don't even arise."
--Jean Baudrillard
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