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Opulence Is Theft

By Wil C. Fry, 2017.12.31, 19:19

(Copyright 2017 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.)


Opulence is theft
No one can earn what isn’t left
Land of opportunity
A chance to take
A chance to break
A chance to make
An adequate life
If you’re lucky
If you’re plucky
If you’re fucky
And not afraid of the muck
Most of us get stuck
Don’t forget to duck
Bob and weave
Bringing in the sheaves
Into the oligarch’s storehouse
So he can starve the churchmouse

For king and his country
Or boss and his company
Or pastor and his ministry
Sitting atop citizenry

Bowed and broken
Lucky to be a token

Eat the rich
If you must survive
Did you die?
No one batted an eye
Eat the poor
To clear the streets
Gather around
So we can finally meet

Opulence is theft
Hidden in a cleft
Of a rock the poor can’t afford to climb
Maybe you’ll get ever so lucky this time

Or just sit over there
Going insane in a chair
Next to Christ with blond hair
And the makeup that she wears
Counting the same bills daily
While your skin grows scaly
Feeling more than normally faily
Adrift at sea with no saily

Stack it up
Higher than ceilings
Fuck the poor
And their damn feelings

Can you count this gold?
Can you weigh this stock?
Can you breathe a mansion?
Can you eat a faceful of shock?




I saw "opulence is theft" in a Facebook comment recently. On this night, the phrase popped into my head and the rest just streamed out.




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