What if Wealthy Leaches suppress their own Species,
Rationalizing, saying Leadership denied is Chaos
And Freedom must be Framed in a Breadboard
Of Irrational Lives—Half Fear, Half Toil—with
Circuitry of Specie determining the Paths
Open to ‘Freedom’ and Keeping the Power Supply
What if Wars are the Leaches, Tilting the Pinball Game
Before our Metal Sphere gets the Lay of the Land;
Before we Finish the Thought of What is Real,
What is a Game, and How to Change Our World
Through Sensible Rules that Banish the Laws
Against Our Human Condition, and Allow Us
The Freedom to be Good?
We can be Good to Each Other—We can Learn How.
We can Rise above Capitalism’s Enslavement
And Arrive at Livelihoods that Keep us From Evil.
You and I May be Frightened. You and I May be Vicious.
You and I may be Greedy. You and I may be Hopeless—
Hungry, Confused, Subjugate, Excluded, or Hated.
We may all of Us have spent so long Under the Whip
That We can’t even Imagine another Way—
We may Fear our own Freedom.
Some will Train, Some will Transport, Some will Arrive
At the Combat Zone—the Zone of Madness,
So familiar with the Gushing of Blood and Screaming of
Townspeople whose Eyes Accuse Some of Us
Of discharging our Firearms, of Murdering Innocents.
Some of Us will Suffer, except for the Fortunate Fallen
Whose War is Over and will Never need to Kill
Again—Some of Us will disperse into a Red Mist
Of Shame and Guilt and Rage and Panic and
Some of Us will feel the Loss of Themselves,
Who used to be People with Freedom.
The Leaches will wear Frowns and Speak Seriously
Of the Need for this Insanity—but will still Find
Time to Repress the rest of Us in the Name of Nationality.
The Leaches will Grow Fatter on the Sale of Arms
And the subsequent Sale of Prosthetic Arms.
Pride and Determination will re-echo from their
Megaphones—Sanity will be explained Away—
All of Us will Work Harder, Work Longer,
And spend Less Time asking Questions of
The Whereabouts of our Freedom.
Some of Us will be Shamed and Persecuted.
Some of Us will be Forced to Prostrate Ourselves
To the Employer—The One who Exchanges Bread
For Pride, Fear for Security, and Obedience for Will.
The Institutional Bully of Middle Management will
Both Give and Receive the Torture of Life spent
As Chattel. They will Ape their Top Management
Masters in the Vain Hope of the Same Power
The Top-Most seemingly Own (Though They, too,
Will have an Owner Holding the Leash
Of their Freedom).
Some of Us will be Driven Mad, finding in our
Delusions the Only
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