Progress     

 
See how it glitters as it goes, each car,

But my tired eyes reject them for the tin

And wound-up children’s dangerous toys they are,

Whose makers may have hell to traffic in.

Must everything be sold at twice its worth?

The cigarettes get worse the more they cost,

And from the drug-drenched fields, the wormless earth

Yields scentless flowers and foods that have no taste.

Look where the chickens lay dwarf eggs all night,

Boxed in a life-long but electric day,

And tell me if their avid owners might

Not work poor children in an equal way.

Now with the sterile conquest of the moon,

New forms of slavery should be current soon.