Down at the business factory profits were low or at least lower than the shareholders wanted so Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man masterminded a brilliant plan: “We have three people performing a task two people could accomplish while losing their minds attrition rates shouldn’t be a concern because we’ll just streamline the jobs so there’ll always be desperate workers who can easily replace the disillusioned ones.”.
The other businessers were impressed the emperor of business had heard enough: “****** you’re ‘Work People to Death‘ theory might just work. I’m naming you chief execution officer of the company.”. Profits went up and were disseminated amongst the higher-ups so that everyone that mattered was happy all thanks to Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man.
I need to find a job But I’m told I’m flawed No one will ever applaud When I’m so far from God So I hate them and Him I start selling bags of trim To become more grim Than both of their whims
I turn teens into fiends With no financial means Forgetting their dreams To buy my beans They ransack homes For permanent loans Of turbulent tones To pay my bill And get their fill Of pills that thrill Leaving them still
My cardiac attack ******* packed Cadillac Drifts for twelve hour shifts Driving families to cliffs Of drug addled rifts Until I’m mentioned In interventions Bringing attention To my dimension
The cops are behind me Can they find me Through the facade I’m designing? I’m a drug dealer hiding From society’s bindings I don’t make a single sound Once they release the hounds Searching for those I’ve bound In my lost and found They’re just doing their jobs And so am I Playing the odds For a piece of the pie
I’m addicted to the danger And exploiting strangers To channel my anger Into buying a hangar But white blood cells have been released Trying to cure my malignant disease With aggressively insistent antibodies That won’t let me do as I please
Should I listen to my town When they’ve always had frowns And always let me down? I turn around Showing them my back And the piece I pack If they choose to attack The bodies will stack
There’s nothing they can say I’m entrenched in my ways I can’t see through the haze Of this capitalist maze Where I was raised To look out for myself By building my wealth And ignoring the health Of those hit by my belt
If earth is a mother We are mother *******, I swear it's not an ugly name It is a name we have earned after awesome ashamedly acts.
We are not simply satisfied with unclothing earth We love to drill deep inside her womb And love to ***** huge minarets of her own meat and bones On her emptied-self;
Earth is a symbol of our unending desires: Our need are not in our little stomach They reside in our devilish mind We are ******* pampered children We have learnt to live on her depleting signs.
Ignorance is our times' global religion Lured easily by biblical stories Told by our corporate priests My stomach is a warehouse of fast-food chains My mind is advertisements' gutterhole Every night I wait to be slaughtered like a hog; May be now days we are not born with brains We are jungles of moving men With umbilical cords gone.
A fluff of feathers Black and white, Hide the scrawny scavenger Whose "Rick, Rick, Rick!" Identify some place of death, This careful bandit's visiting.
He leaves outright robbery To his cousin jay, And flits, One disaster to the next, To see how he may capitalize.
Dead carrion, his usual fodder... Yet one subzero winter day I saw a magpie perched Upon a shivering cow Belly deep in snow, and Chilled in minus 30 air, Peck-scratching through a healing scab And pulling living flesh away.
Nature in extremes is a cold-hearted witch. A memory from cattle-ranching days 30 years ago....