Ode to Replicable Doom

by Matthew D. Rowe


supposedly sleepy

coastal megalopolis,


I see right through your façade.


Several blocks of two story

concrete cages of

calculated spiritual digression.


First story,

overpriced, Socialite-infested

trattorias and delicatessens,

with none but lies and deceit

on the menu.


Second Story,

capitalistic, immoral

“Health & Wellness”,

dirty, sweaty, hot yoga studios,

with credit card transactions

seeping from every  self-prophecied

Buddha’s pore.


Corner nearest Pacific Ocean,

nearest purest health,

Self-Realization Fellowship.

Costless and empty,

patiently awaiting

civilization’s inevitable



Acknowledging laughable actions

of misguided sheep.