Anonymous planters breed mystery potions
for the consumption of billions (but not for the hungry).
Processed by robots to spread ‘cross the oceans
and envelop the globe with Patina of Man.

Detritus financing floods slop through the alleys;
paints poor on the faces and limbs of the needy;
cashiers the foreclosures foretold for green valleys,
to develop the brand name, Machina Man.

The food chain pays weregeld to heart-attack widows
tangled in patents smugly served in a recycled can.
There’s no practice of healing in file cabinet cultures.
Pre-existing denials distort every DNA scan.

Like pigs at the trough do the food brokers reckon.
Extraction and rape, their most sustainable plan.