The White Unicorn

The White Unicorn

Today girls do not hunt for the White Unicorn any more,
The sparkling snow like, coat of the wild horse seems cold and lonely to them,
The idle lethargic generation are zombie like pets feeding in the giant cages of Globalised Supermarkets and Superstores all disguised as Superheroes being supercilious in their superiority over traditional mere mortal run markets.
Only to entertain Fridge Physics " Food, food everywhere and not a piece to eat"
They breath in buying, they exhale owning,
Shopping for food, purchasing life, browsing for bodies, leasing for love, the existence of reality is marked at a price.
The twelve Gods of Olympus are the banks, The Landlords, The Mortgagees, the surgeons, high street shops, the pubs, the superstores, the psychologists, the government, the media, the employers and the fairy tales we have read.
We are mere puppets, ventriloquist run dummies that graze like locusts devouring in boutique buying,
Mortal machines whose fuel is money so we can be slaves to materialistic desires that flick on our foggy happy switch,
The girls are bunnies and Barbies and Cindy’s, their plastic armour shielding them from the harsh reality,
They mould themselves into objects of play, playboys, playmates and toys that can be picked up used and thrown away,
They accessorize with stars, their bodies a sticker book of fashion they become an object draped over a males arm like a handbag, a charm,
Knifes that work on the body like a canvas from the brain of a Superficial Magician,
The show and magic becomes a walking doll,
They choose their bodies in a catalogue of clichés,
If they found the Unicorn they would only rip the horn from the Unicorn and there is no magic any more.