They have ears, but they’re deaf.
They walk, they talk, they sing, they laugh
But they are not hearing. Not the
Simple whispers of an anorexic nation
Not the feeble cries of the unclothed, or
Unsheltered. Ears they have aplenty
But they’re too busy plotting and planning
And spending their voracious dollars on
Programs and pilots, parties and platitudes.
They have ears that must be stopped up
With wax, it oozes from the similitude of
Their conversations and speeches in
Boardrooms and bars, ballrooms and
At Baseball games. They are the men in
Three piece suits and gabardines, the
Women as CEOs strutting in stilettos
They have ears, but don’t hear the
Pathetic whimpers of the “me” generations
And latchkey children who sit behind cold
Doors and snort little white lines and practice
The art of growing up
