Kingdom

What segregation
Can they enforce through media made minds?
While sweat shops slaughter
and maintain the nets
the “self empowered”
stopping the migrant commodity
from stirring up revolutions;
committing suicide

What words enrage the privileged
What keeps the coffee from the hot plate?
While women are charred
Prosecuted for the witchcraft
Of independent, third degree, thought.

Pity the child that can’t afford the pocket computers
While children in Africa
March barefoot miles
To survive off of thimbles
Of fetid water

help ourselves before we help others
Take it from the creator
We’ve been on our own for centuries
While he’s working on the down payment
For his corvette in the clouds

Why help those birthed in dysentery
From first world waste
When you can empower
The Gods of men

For the top 1% will never be “rich”
And the bottom 99%
Can never starve enough
When we’re eating our children to survive
We must remember
to save the best cuts of meat
For them

I’ll work myself to death
A corpse mashing the keyboard

And my Kingdom
Of Carbon Dioxide
The walls of
The victims of poverty
Will only
Grow.

Holding or Held by the Leash

Always the fight for inertia.
And when the pressure adds up
And I start to give
You’ll pick me up out of my gutter
I know I can count on you
bitch

Children being worked and trained in third world boot camps
Sex trafficking
To first world buyers
Women shunned and shamed into slavery
The slashing
“Bitch”
exasperated bigotry
All of the abuse
All of the self pity
All of the apathy
All of the sweat shops in third world countries
All of the sweat shops in our country
All of the desk jobs
The fate we’re all doomed to.
Sometimes I find I’m
Walking with a leash

Wiping up the bullshit.

Even growth is controlled. All of life has turned artificial. Convenience has taken over. It seems that with the direction we are going it won’t be long before I’ll be able to hire a third world worker to wipe my ass.

Her name is Mochikwa and never before have I felt more comfortable with someone wiping my ass. Prior to her I had suffered with a fat brown man, who was far too abrasive and rough with his strokes. In fact his strokes seemed to have no technique to them whatsoever. It was more than apparent that he had not had the proper training to wipe my ass. That’s when I had him deported. If you aren’t competent to wipe my ass then you aren’t competent enough to live in this great nation. Mochika has soft tender hands. In fact, I enjoy the feeling of her hands so much that frequently I will ask her to wipe regardless of whether or not I’ve enjoyed a BM. I got the recommendation for this servant from my father. It seems Mochikwa’s mother worked for him. He said that her mother was even more beautiful, though I find that hard to believe, and even more tender hands? I doubt it.