Erebus on the way to the River of no return

The sheol of cabled broadband with enlarged

Cloven foot cleavage on the living room screen

Taunting the reflected, hardened features

Of edged prime males not given to fatherhood but

The hooded jinx, and strut of mtv bravado;

Watching the taxi dancers of the virtual hall,

Tattooing the synapses of young men's eyed minds--

One of brit, hilton, and pam the show, deep the photo skin

Fleshed Cerberus of the three set, mindless madonna.

Where in this western riverscape of Styxian humans

May one find the Eastered yearn for the Eucharist?

Wake

Up and suit yourself,

Into the floundering pattern-mudded

Consciousness of this our finite skin---

Into a being 'berthed' bemused, beseemed morning

So like the proverbial hog, the typical sow of the round ring

Who as life's suitors are led about by their snouted 'knows;'

Beshrewed, besotted, bemired so we instinctively grunt,

Following our sensual, careening awareness

Or our dutiful grindstoned routine,

We press our life's suit 'til evening

Or wallow down

To our suited

Wake.