'Progress'

Progress is a never-ending line of cars

Stretching down a super highway.

Progress is an empty home-

Mom and Dad in separate cars

Seeking scattered kids,

Who will separate, every one,

When all are in the house.

Progress is a yard of grass and shrub

Which bear no fruit, while the fact’ry farm

Abounds in monstrous weeds and bugs.

Progress is the joy of being a drone

In the high-tech hive of soul-mangling corporations.

Progress is the magic skill of mass production-

The victory of boring uniformity.

Progress is the privilege of becoming

An unwitting sacrifice to satanic powers

Through the working of Western social theory,

And the money masters and amusement makers.

Progress is a megachurch

Filled with shoppers eager for the latest fare

From focus-group Christianity.

Progress is a gnawing worm feeding on our guts and souls.