I dreamt of tulips and
chimneys last night and the
foxing stain toxins of
modern dystopian life
I lay there under
industrial skies and
their greyish fogs streamed
an oppressive burden
blown frivously by
stacked structures
poison spewing
landscapes deteriorated
and I consciously wondered
whether I had just over read
the aged books
of foreseen fiction
that this was how it was
going to be
waking but sleeping
a nightmare not dreaming
subliminal persuasion
embedded corrupted
designed to dictate
how to live unconsciously
pollution smeared minds
the chimneys showed me
that the longterm
prognosis of progress
is decomposition
and so I lay there
considering this
amongst a bed of tulips
momentarily amazed
by the frailty and beauty
of every single flower petal
in the knowledge that
the purpose and meaning
of life is love not possession