what we have been made

under a tree,
seeping a canned beer,
a Charles Glass brew they say,
i realize we are not what we should be,
for this is not who we are,
nor who we were,

but what we have been made,
and so have we become,
once a society headed by norms,
all that we now have trampped on,
a people ruined by civilisation,
guided by a crafty mans' idolisation,
western livity.
and so i sit here and quench this my thirst,
and let sink into that world,
and not even alcohol can dissuade me,
from these my thoughts,
of beauty gone commercial,
chinese baking a bigger cake for the world,
and not even the poor can miss a piece,
on their plates...
the hairless singing of wigs and weaves,
breast enhancers and butt expanders,
a dance for the thin,
tone lighteners for the dark,
and price tagged virginity for the whores,
nothing goes natural anymore,
and love can be bought,
not even men stand the chance,
of the plastic sex on the rise,
different sizes on the stalls,
all depends on her wants,
and so they stay locked at their work,
making silly faces and noises,
all alone,
to the gadgets placed in their holes...
so what becomes of we,
the natural beings?
do we stand a chance in a mechanised world?
or just an extinct species,
on the walk?