#18. ATTACK! OF THE CORPORATE CLONES unlike a 1950s sci-fi flick
stealth-like they have appeared
the invasion of the building machines zapping minds feeding lines
and breeding creative amateurs cloned wall-to-wall emptiness population left to d.i.y design
domestic obsessions from cumbria to kent
only money makes money through property development now everyone’s at it
told how on television
a million clean lines
and stone cold sharp kitchens where feelings wreck profits so get ahead not a heart estate agent fees are bagging the riches
people are desperately grabbing at boxes
no matter how small
rushing pushing
prices rising
time ticking
getting there first
it's like new year sale shopping deposit-less savers being run out of town
to somewhere out there where satellites are grown
back in the centre there’s more of the same glass plates in plain pieces or angled coloured panes
it’s all X numbered floors of shadow casting
reflection and a demonstration of blinding electricity bouncing light heat spots burning holes through the city
its all standard issue corporate collections
of mid-western styled skylines and unsubtle claims for aerial domination cleaning out history and leading us on
west to east non-entity and then back again
nowhere is everywhere and nothing is different peopled desk rows way up into space containers of a vacuum packed workforce artificial light beacons uptight through the night defined and restrained you can see it all clearly
but it's mute and removed and you won’t feel a thing
atmospheres of pre-ordained calm
the odd potted plant hints that we are not quite ready to be fully embalmed
the people who decide create these spaces to be seemingly sanitised building up to the stars by plundering new depths
so what of our buildings, our needs, our demands
so what of this new block it's still fucking bland