survival of the richest

December 3, 2011



no longer wants

your poor, your hungry,

your downtrodden…

she’s locked her

doors and

hung the

“Do Not Disturb”


psst… slip the doorman

a twenty, and he’ll see

what he can do…

but line his pockets

with Benjamens,

he’ll hand you

the key-

slightly stunned to

see you,


will welcome you with

open arms,

and an

open wallet-

it’s become survival of the richest;

without money,

you’d become an incircumstantial

pawn in this facade

of brotherhood,

collateral damage

in a financial tug of war-

once you’ve each fed

on the delicacies

of the world,

and speak on the affairs of state,

remembering to forget

“we, the people”,

you hand her a

slew of blank checks,

with the warning

to spend as

little as possible

on those in need,

as though poverty were contagious;

as though the unemployed

were unemployable,

and the disabled

too sick beyond reproach….

your business complete,


congenially shakes your hand,

kindly reminding you

to step over the

protesting homeless sleeping

outside in the streets-



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