Post Modern Madness Poem by DM W

Scentless day-glo seasons breed
A plethora of exotic, commercialised themes.
All that's on offer are cut price gestures in the face of the void.
The garish light of innumerable icons drains consciousness.
Marketeers are complicit in the wholesale perversion
Of colour and sound. Incongruous, sneering symbols and signs
Are now disconnected from the original source.
Adverts squeal hysterically like choirs of swine.
We're now hard wired to vivid fantasies
And the insolent silicon of circuitry.
All I see are pointless liasons and junk parodies;
Regurgitation of bovine designs and bloated billboards;
Complete cannibalisation of previous codes and styles
And vast constellations of digitalised cartoons.

Hidden networks weave intricate webs of deceit
The obese public sphere intrudes on frail private realms:
Violent exposure of the heart's secret wounds.
The blood runs cold in the veins of dark stars.
The sun's radiant dreaming is dwindling.
Veritable armies of health crazed, treadmill obsessed sheep
Are constantly on the march; to nowhere in particular.
O implacable solitude of empty city streets!
O all the fake news. and viruses of all kinds!
I can almost hear the silent screams.