#billionaires
they tell us
to work harder
as if exhaustion is a moral flaw.
they say there isn’t enough—
not for schools,
not for healthcare,
not for the people who need it.
but somehow
there is always enough
for private jets,
for bailouts,
for men who could not spend
their money
in a thousand lifetimes.
they call it success
when wealth pools at the top
and drought
everywhere else.
we are blamed
for drowning
in a system
designed to keep us thirsty.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 7:51 PM UTC
They lie so cleanly now,
you'd mistake it for a skill,
celebrated on the Fortune 100,
while the ones who built it
can't afford the cover,
And we buy the magazine,
and we read the interview,
and we learn their secrets to success,
but honesty isn't one of their prowess,
"Nobody wants to work these days”, they say,
said the woman who never clocked in,
born into an empire of cameras,
another nepo baby cosplaying as self-made for cash,
selling up the ladder she never had to climb,
what an act;
Lie, make money, repeat,
the oldest business model
with the freshest face,
But every pyramid scheme needs a base —
you, dear reader,
you’re the base.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 4:51 PM UTC
Billionaires on their trophy yachts
sip Grand Cru and pick delicacies
from Flora Danica plates
and Baccarat crystal.
The seas are their escape
at freedom’s own expense.
Asleep, waves accumulate a price
too expensive for their assets.
The rolling sea erases time
like Wall Street’s ill-gotten gains.
How far away we are from them—
our feet on a public pier,
their decks beyond the buoy line.
Their anchor lights
glint in illiquid distances.
And in our gazing, unseen shapes
stir from the depths,
sea-monsters of discontent
rising from envy we barely know.
Wealth means nothing
to the waves and their changes.
They carry their own interest,
whisper listing to the caves.
At the bottom of the sea
lies the Graff of their extravagance.
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 3:16 PM UTC
It’s the billionaire’s coup–Trump, Putin and Musk.
They’re bleeding us out, from dawn until dusk.
Consumer protections, arts, farms, forestry–
the billionaires say they’re not necessary.
From the money they save, the tax cuts will come
to the billionaires, the millionaires, their daughters and sons.
Balance the budget, so they can all have some.
So many workers deemed useless and lazy,
such as nuclear engineers–whoops! Are they crazy?
Shredding all of Congress’s appropriations
and thumbing their noses at all other nations.
Except Putin’s, because, he’s one of them--
the billionaire’s club of rich white old men,
who share dreams of ransacking the whole world, entire,
until all of it ends in storms, floods and fire.
Then off via SpaceX past the Milky Way’s limits.
No, that’s not possible. But deep down they’re dimwits.
You can fool some of us, all of the time,
You can’t fool us all, and I’ll end this rhyme:
We’ll protest, we’ll sue, we’ll go out on strikes.
And if the time comes–their heads stuck on pikes.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 12:50 AM UTC
it's elon musk
his stiff, frozen corpse hurtling toward the earth
looks like space flight wasn't as grand as an idea as previously thought
the virgins have gone galactic
branson's body as cold as his icy heart
and eyes to match his lifelessness
the bald headed freak's gone bug-eyed!
clearly unprepared for the speed his amazon basic space shuttle hurtles at
as shoddily made as the rest of their **** the cabinet begins decompressing
why go to the stars
what do you think it is you'll find up there
peace or contentment
are you trying to prove something
you'd think if you'd really want to help humanity you might start on this rock before trying to jump to the next
oh you'll succeed
while the planet you so desperately sought to escape is in the throws of death's spiral
i'm sure it stings your pride to know you'll die before that though
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 1:43 AM UTC
let’s blur truth behind
our forest of strings
teased by blocks, and below
they dance these real boy nows
clap
for the show
say
your lines
sing
like me
I’m
your queen
baubles like pebbles
shine my fingers please
watch the firewood gambol
**** the harvest, so languid
shape
your hips
just
like me
oh
they'll swoon
just
for you
please dance for the show
marionette toy!
oh sing these strings up high
what ballet they pull
take
a try
no
my turn now
pull
the garrotes
you're kindling
to us
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 10:18 PM UTC
For a summer resort as a teen
I had the job of cleaning latrines,
three months at minimum wage.
Nobody said, “Good job, well done.”
But it was.
I’ve repaired septic tanks from within.
Mucked in mud laying pipe.
Scraped asbestos. Hot-mopped a roof.
Shoveled bat guano.
Nobody gave me a medal.
Just cash.
Be humble. Do your share.
Society will be better. Civilization more civil,
you a stronger you, it’s really true,
more worthy than those fat cats in their mansions
who I dare not name or
they’d send legal thugs to bury me
in lawyer manure.
Forget latrines. Think billionaires.
They bought the news. Congress. Supreme Court.
Learn about salvage, about repair.
Learn to fix rot at the foundation and work toward the top.
Zoning board. Town council. State assembly. Governor.
Step by step go higher.
Then ask what shitwork is.
And let’s get busy.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC