First of all, I have noticed that several commentators in the Third Galaxy seem to think that "Bankers of Illusion", an image the unknown poet often uses, refers to the mainstream media in general and what was later to become the United State of Arrogance in particular. This is not quite accurate for it is not television, movies, radio, etc., as such which he takes issue with but the flux and nexus of power, both economic and political, which controlled the media in that unfortunate world.
Secondly, the uninformed reader might think that the unknown poet had a rather sick imagination, when one considers the images he makes use of here. If I could show you some of the movies and programs which passed for entertainment in the Third Galaxy, you would be shocked but you would also understand that the images in these poems are practically understatement.
Can you imagine movie dreams in which the hero murders in cold blood a dozen people, blowing them away as offhandedly as you might swat a fly, then has casual intercourse with a female who appears for no other reason in the plot. Or, how about a hero who tortures people, for example threatens to poke a fellow's eye out with an ice-pick and immediately gets the information he needs to disarm the atomic bomb terrorists have ticking away some where in Poosah City?
There was even a movie which showed in graphic detail over two hours of torture ending with the murder of a human being -- in the form of the Holy Idaho -- and it was a smash box-office success!
Indeed, such was common fare and the people of Arrogance became inured and accustomed to the cynical use and blatant abuse of power. This sort of thing was the share of the Bankers of Illusion in bringing about the ascendency of the Supreme Hole and the Terrible Times which then ensued.
There was a meeting of the Bankers
of Illusion, and they all agreed to feed
a juicy piece of naked love
into a screaming ball of artificial wax...
One lusty Banker said: "Thank her
only if the 'heavy-stuff' makes it bleed!"
As if it wasn't already enough,
They smear themselves with glue and blue carpet tacks.
The ugly little pricks need
to wear such cruel vests of broken glass and boast
with neon obscenities, "No one
gives a rusty red rat's ass what we do
to get it on the glowing screen!"
"They'd all get sick if they really had to see us roast
some fellow's toes or strip a thumb
to the bone and drop it, bit by bit, into the stew."