Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Uber, Devourer of Souls

Moloch, from

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination? Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch!

Moloch the loveless! Moloch the heavy judger of men! Moloch who employed whole intellects, who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose with superior technology; and sent the best minds of Silicon Valley onto the streets, looking for a spatial fix;

Creating the great suicidal drama of madman bums, and pink-mustached hipsters:

who jumped in limousines and loned it through the long streets where skyscrapers stand like endless Jehovahs, trying to make a full-time living as part-time taxi drivers; who dreamt of pings, of neon blinking traffic lights, the noise of wheels and children; who wept at the romance of the street;

who wandered around and around at midnight wondering where to go; who accepted into their private vehicles a battalion of conversationalists, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and hammers to the eyeball and shocks of surge pricing receipts and jails and class warfare; who received a four-star rating and screamed with joy;

who were promised rates of fare and hourly guarantees that vanished into nowhere; who chained themselves to the endless ride with predatory car loans; who failed to pay unemployment tax and were dumped by insurers; or who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed were run down by exhaustion, traffic, vitriol, the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality.

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven!