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"Pardon me, Sir..." -Marie Antoinette [to her executioner's foot] One day the overprivileged will be trampled underfoot by the downtrodden. One day the poor will have nothing left to eat, but the rich. One day the homeless will have nowhere left to sleep, but your new marble countertops. One day malaria will have nowhere left to spread, but your country club pool. One day wars will have nowhere to be fought, but your well-manicured lawns, And there will be no one left to fight them, but your well-manicured daughters. One day the Bourgeoisie will awaken to find the Workers scaling their wrought-iron gates, And there will be no turning us away like petty solicitors- For we have a debt to collect, and we will accept nothing less than The Merchant of Venice’s request: a pound of well-fed flesh… And we will rejoice, as we warm our frost-bitten fingertips, on the smoldering remains of your estates. And we will rejoice, as we dance beneath your majestic maples, composing eulogies for the Good Ole Days of the Good Ole Boys…
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Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
Nothing Personal, It's Just Business
"Pardon me, Sir..." -Marie Antoinette [to her executioner's foot] One day the overprivileged will be trampled underfoot by the downtrodden. One day the poor will have nothing left to eat, but the rich. One day the homeless will have nowhere left to sleep, but your new marble countertops. One day malaria will have nowhere left to spread, but your country club pool. One day wars will have nowhere to be fought, but your well-manicured lawns, And there will be no one left to fight them, but your well-manicured daughters. One day the Bourgeoisie will awaken to find the Workers scaling their wrought-iron gates, And there will be no turning us away like petty solicitors- For we have a debt to collect, and we will accept nothing less than The Merchant of Venice’s request: a pound of well-fed flesh… And we will rejoice, as we warm our frost-bitten fingertips, on the smoldering remains of your estates. And we will rejoice, as we dance beneath your majestic maples, composing eulogies for the Good Ole Days of the Good Ole Boys…
michael-adkins
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Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
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