The mass of people search for meaning
in hope of classless living, Orwell says.

So give away your money, give
the homeless woman sitting tucked
by rubbish, two or twenty pounds
then walk away. And meet
a churchman passing, wonder does
he know, what dreaming stirs my heart?

And salt the earth.

He walked the length of worldly stores
to find a bookshop hung with signs;
proclaimed the Bible most frequent
of books which people robbed. Who could
resist the smart retort, the wit
to say, they need it most of all!

A change has come, no need to fear,
to eat the fruit from trees. All is
now clean. Consume and freely be.
What comes from mouths that promise gold
but muck and hatred spew? The gaze
of men as grazing herds do chew.

Where walks a man and looks, his choice revealed.

A Babel prince, a man refined
by culture, forfeits throne for tomb.
He will not stand. For voices cry
aloud in private language oaths
that neither pain nor pleasure can
deny the secret life once more.