Applesmack

She works twelve hours in the shadow of the Apple
Perhaps the iPhone you play with was made by her
Young hands are calloused and her body is weary
Bright fluorescent lights and constant surveillance
Constitute the environment in which she must toil
She dreams of placid waters and rolling hillsides
Where flowers kiss the sky and keypads are skipping stones
Her reality is one of a cog; a flesh and blood cyborg
Anxious, yearning faces long to fill her worn, secondhand shoes
She is one of the faceless, the replaceable, the expendable
Billions of dollars are shamelessly showered upon her owners
Crumbs of sustenance are gathered by the constructing exploited
Supine supplicants lust wantonly for the next innovation
Fingering inane drivel upon a surface once damp with tears
She works twelve hours in the shadow of the Apple
The seeds of which fall upon a floor walked by the forlorn
Press ear to your iPhone…and listen for the atone
She, or you, will never hear

"Chief, We Need the 'Cones of Silence'"

Our thoughts, our actions, covertly stored
The "eye of the state" shan't be ignored
Grandiose spectacles of red, white and blue
Designed to dazzle, yet they're watching you

Pecking these words on laptop computer
Somewhere, someone says "a patriotic refuter"
Micro-chipped files housed deep in the ground
Your image, fingerprints, your voice...its sound

The police state emerging from its embryo
Be forewarned it hasn't got too far to go
Robespierre's smiling, no doubt Goebbels too
With modern technology...think what they'd do

A mentality predicated on things Machiavellian
With reality strictly conceived on Orwellian
Barbed tongues and barbed wire...we found too late
The "beer hall putsch" ...in the United States

On the job ...Tray...ning

“Wasn’t doin’ nothin’…just walkin’
Ain’t no crime in that…is there? Is there?
Went and got me a ice tea and a bag ‘a Skittles
Dude at the store didn’t say nothin’…I didn’t say nothin’
Rain was comin’ down…wasn’t cold…just rainin’
I put the hood on my hoodie over my head
Ain’t that what it’s for? Put on top of your head?
Skittles taste good…I gotta call that girl when I get home
She gonna”…”Hey you, put your hands in the air!”
“You talkin’ to me?...Put my hands in the air for what?
Like, I just be walkin’ home and…”
And that’s all I remember ‘sides a flash…and thinkin’
Crazy dude just shot me
What the hell? Shit, my mom gonna be pissed
She gonna say, “Tray, what you been up to?”
And I’ll say, and…I’ll…say…”Mom…Mom
It’s rainin’ huh? Been rainin’ a long time huh?”
Mom……Mom….It ever gonna stop rainin?”