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#capitalist
A greased cog strikes the iron while it’s hot. Splattered blood of a million sellouts’ dreams. **** you for finding this to be the way. Hostile happenstance born to a glass eyed gaze. Pray to your mother’s convenient gods. Sit on your *** and grow fat in his greed. It is a myth to be complacent but good. A belief not uttered is a justice left to rot. God **** who’s left to clean up all this mess?
0
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 8:45 AM UTC
Playing the Blame Game
How does capitalism deeply impact my life? I want to make music so bad, but I procrastinate with stupid **** I clean as if people could come over anytime and judge me superficially. I often go out and shop for things I futilely hope will organize me enough to make cleaning faster. I shop for obscure musical instruments and gear to feel like it'll make making music easier. In capitalism, owning the machinery is more valuable than doing the work. We ingrain that in our soul, more and more. Negative liberty was always valuable, but when you had less you used to find others to help turn that liberty positive.   I have a guitar, bass, and drums, but no band. Self-alienation at this point. All my friends play, but don't want to make it a thing. Our leaders are just hype men and chaos actors to keep the mystery going. "Capitalism may be cruel, but it's the best system we got." "Capitalism just means people have the right to go into business for themselves." No the owners are subservient to something greater too. They serve capital, they serve the absolution of all. Your automatic answer is "it wasn't my fault." It was incorporated, depersonalized. So many dead and broken people. So much waste. Digging up so much petroleum, the plastic's in our veins. "It's no one's fault." If by some astronomical chance a concerned public win a Kafkaesque trial, all that's lost is money. No one goes to jail or suffers, if you own enough stuff. But there's the pickle. "The things you own start to own you," of course, but what's much worse is the Nothing they serve needs to grow, until there's no humanity left. Becoming voids who only seek more efficient ways to delete.
0
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 11:31 AM UTC
Millerites for Singularity
How does capitalism deeply impact my life? I want to make music so bad, but I procrastinate with stupid **** I clean as if people could come over anytime and judge me superficially. I often go out and shop for things I futilely hope will organize me enough to make cleaning faster. I shop for obscure musical instruments and gear to feel like it'll make making music easier. In capitalism, owning the machinery is more valuable than doing the work. We ingrain that in our soul, more and more. Negative liberty was always valuable, but when you had less you used to find others to help turn that liberty positive.   I have a guitar, bass, and drums, but no band. Self-alienation at this point. All my friends play, but don't want to make it a thing. Our leaders are just hype men and chaos actors to keep the mystery going. "Capitalism may be cruel, but it's the best system we got." "Capitalism just means people have the right to go into business for themselves." No the owners are subservient to something greater too. They serve capital, they serve the absolution of all. Your automatic answer is "it wasn't my fault." It was incorporated, depersonalized. So many dead and broken people. So much waste. Digging up so much petroleum, the plastic's in our veins. "It's no one's fault." If by some astronomical chance a concerned public win a Kafkaesque trial, all that's lost is money. No one goes to jail or suffers, if you own enough stuff. But there's the pickle. "The things you own start to own you," of course, but what's much worse is the Nothing they serve needs to grow, until there's no humanity left. Becoming voids who only seek more efficient ways to delete.
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9
Peace Profit Made in a country near you Things to do a job What type of job? To heal to **** to create to destroy All in the ACME factory Ready steady go get to work! Fulfil your shift Do your quota Finish the order yesterday There's much work to be done You busy little bees Make the fat boss rich Capitalist wage slaves Even the commies are the same Make some more do the work Enrich the rich you ****** There's no profit in laziness or peace We are all environmental commodities
0
Aug 27, 2022
Aug 27, 2022 at 5:32 PM UTC
Peace Profit
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.
0
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 3:15 AM UTC
Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man
wine n dine they say faux sophistication how pretty oh culture, they say but there's a price to pay for the theatre show endorse inclusion yet divide into rows the stage is free art they say entertain me in exchange for pay ********** culture deeper entrenched day by day isn't it peculiar? we are politically correct yet flawed in every way shhhhh, that's not what you are supposed to say
0
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 5:48 PM UTC
hushhh hushhh
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
0
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 7:23 PM UTC
Capitalist
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
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67
A Capitalist burns each day shoveling dirt; paid to dig his grave
0
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
Dirt
The factory closed it's doors, the demand, just wasn't there people just not wanting more, not here, or anywhere Populations of small towns, around the work that's there hard to get up, when down, it's never easy, and, or fair Things that made our country great, our people, ethics, and cares business no longer honest, or strait, profit margins, for millionaires Workers replaced by automation, cheaper than humanity unemployment across the nation, a new type, of insanity Corporate the way of things, bean counters keep all stats money, and all that brings, just a ship, with all it's rats
0
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 7:44 AM UTC
What happened to us
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. We are dead suckers We are mother *******
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
If Earth is a Mother We are Mother *******
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.
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Magpie
I'm a menace, baby, menace Mess with me I'm a furnace Come near Imma put you in flames I **** baby, **** But you still adore me Rather fill yourself up Then give me up You're a zombie I'm the poison That's keeping you there You're lustful for everything in the world My seeds plant desire in your mind Keeping you hungry for more Money, baby, money Your god, your mandate, your sacred script
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
A Love Letter to the Capitalist