We leave the concrete urbanscapes
for the tonic of weekend escapes,
we queue for harmony, meditation, tai chi,
where Christianity is no longer in vogue.
But when the weekend draws to a close
and the ambivalence of our beliefs
peeks from under a scourge of self-help:
relaxation goes on respite
the green man becomes a ghost
our bonsai bombs
the heart crystal cracks
and harmony harps back to whose turn it was to wash up.
One in four suffer from depression,
while two in four live in destitution,
and our parents talk of the good old days
as McDonalds pin-ups starve and rampage.
Disassociation is now all the rage,
a by-product of the business of living
where celebrity poster-children
are idolised for bedroom videos and fashion.
One in four reaches for plastic
to pay for yet another escape
or quick fix, a sixty dollar an hour course:
an intro on how to meditate.