Wednesday, June 09, 2010

The Wash

Kings as CEO’s
Having peasants build their Palaces
Atop the hills up high and holy.

There they laugh at poverty
And swim in swank serenity.

Dissenters languish in the dungeons
Trucked in, tortured and called traitors.

They dared to question Capitalists;
Thus they feel their gilded fists
Of grafted, glowing, godly gold.

Jesus has been jailed and judged
Nailed to his nihilistic cross.

Gandhi’s fasted in futility
For the media has muted him.

There’s no such thing as news –
It’s purely propaganda
As your cranium’s incorporated.

Our pituitary’s now have patents
From our spines to sphincters we've been sold.

The greatest minds they've ground to mulch
To grow the GMO vision of a greener world.

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