The Humanitarian Sky Lords

Brush an orphan's hair ten times, and your path will continue to straighten onward your goals.    
      
Endure the disjointed time of a case study's illiteracy      
and dissuade dementia for five years.      
     
There you and I've waded in the yellow sclera of those sunken beads  
that bug from a strip of whole-grain skin  
(reaffirming the aesthetics of an obesity under a relative reason of their skeleton),  
passing pity in the soul we critique by  
as overpopulation      
and religion as spurious as mice.      
     
Then,      
for barring their jungles,  
tipping onward the hope of brief tourism,  
the scrapers that would gouge the fumigating sun,  
in offer of our lab through that which fraternities impress synthetic resource at belly medicine of our agriculture forsook,  
     
retire to dunes of Babel and mushroom canopy —  
     
cultural in a fascination,  
but renting in boils and vomit  
from an armada Encyclopedia embarked off of untended diagnoses
as solely Third World barons can read it.