Thursday, December 23, 2010


Every year we waste away
We taste the fruits of labour
Whether ours or those before us.

The socialites gather
In the royal dining hall
Drink champagne and eat
Endangered species.
There workers eat
homemade sandwiches
In the basement of the mansion.

There are dreams with a fix in reality
There are flaws in reality
There are walls in reality
Take me to your metaphoric garden.

We will roast the dodo
And drink the blood
Of a fresh finned shark
Laughing in mirth
About our worth
And our power of seduction.

We will dance in our Italian shoes
With no thoughts of Chinese debt
We will revel in the glory
Of pomp and prosperity
To witty for wondering
To classy for regret.

See now the slave that takes the stage
A creature of habits
Dancing for the next fix
We will sell it to her for double
What we paid
And scorn her for her poverty.

See now the juggler
Clumsy fool
Playing the princes part
Trying to make his rags look expensive
A chiseled jaw and chisler hands
We will spit on the working man.

The gift of time is hours
We of royal parentage
All the time in the world
To shirk the dog and hurl cats
To wing our powers
To greedily devouring
The soul.

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