Prison of Neoliberalism

No, I ain’t praying…’cause there ain’t no god…only
a deviant deity damning me to a detestable death—

my skin clammy and yellow, eyes a bloodshot roadmap,
hacking spasms erupt from what was once a human being

now a shivering carcass slumped on pavement reeking
from foamy urine and steaming dog shit,

corrugated cardboard and lice-infested blankets my only
defense against the wind’s bayonet thrusts.

I eat out of a dempster dumpster—like a miner panning for
maggots—scrounging for half-eaten chicken McNuggets,

moldy pizza crusts and, if I’m lucky, the day-old leftovers
of a GrubHub sushi delivery to some entitled little prick

who works for Amazon or Apple or Alphabet—isn’t it funny
that Asshole also begins with an “A” and isn’t it hilarious

that Asshole might be the same dirtbag who occupied—
yup, think Putin and Ukraine—my apartment when

the brat rats of the cyber plague infested the city,
quadrupling rents and driving me onto the streets—

go ahead sadistic one, shit on me again—three months
after a robot stole my job—lower costs, higher profits,

the stock skyrockets but us peons never got stock options
so I was left wantin,’ surviving on OxyContin.


I ask you: what kind of supreme being except a Beelzebub
beholden to blood-sucking billionaire bastards

would condone your coterie controlling half the cash
in the country, banking all those Benjamins, buying

Bugattis, Bertram Boats, even the Bahamas, and bribing
corrupt congressmen to keep those tax cuts coming

all the while solemnly swearing that wealth will trickle down
to us galley slaves, a deceitful contention,

a pseudo-economic invention born of elitist condescension—
the math doesn’t work, you soulless jerk,

but go ahead and smirk because you know oligopoly raises
prices, exacerbates societal crises,

yet with typical stealth you refuse to share the wealth, a
living wage never part of your plan because

it’s cheaper to manufacture in Vietnam and you don’t worry
about the parasitic rent—you’re part of the 1%—

but you resent the existence of those tents, want us exiled
to Tashkent because the neighborhood’s been gentrified—

ah the wonders of financial apartheid, even if it worsens the
great divide in a nation more and more stratified.


I hide my face not because I feel disgrace but to avoid some
cop’s mace as he comes to roust me from this place;

you smile at his impunity, he’s cleansing your community,
helping efface the scum of the human race…how dare I

have the temerity to beg for a little charity while you
support the barbarity known as austerity—

something about the national debt, you claim it’s a threat
but what about the greedy iniquity of your private equity—

which increases the severity of financial disparity, inflames
social polarity while you sip Cristal in cocooned insularity.


Buddhists preach compassion but it’s never been in fashion,
obscene wealth the great assassin

from the Carthaginians to the Abyssinians and today’s
Palestinians, societies have been Darwinian—just ask

the American Indian—effluent affluence the real cause
of the schism because it’s all about greed not altruism;

today they call it neoliberalism but regardless of the name
it’s always been the same, a life and death zero sum game,

the rich passing sentence, the poor getting maimed. It starts
with wealth profusion protected through political collusion,

then worker delusion that future wealth is a foregone conclusion,
followed by economic devolution— the plutocracy rejecting

income redistribution—which results in indigent destitution…
go ahead and schedule my execution…


I sometimes fantasize about a socialist state, one that would
rein in you reprobates, but there’d be no reason to celebrate,

bureaucratic bungling would simply accelerate and nothing
would trickle down—term now adopted by progressive clowns—

because the government budget despite efforts to fudge it —
and while you and the red states begrudged it—

would explode, increasing the amount of income tax owed,
and putting most of the burden on those already hurtin,’

minorities yellow brown or black—and I know it sounds crass
but victims also include all us white trash—we know the pols

ain’t got our backs, society lets us slip through the cracks,
token social programs to camouflage every day pogroms

while you have complete immunity, your life one big gated
community but beware… there’s gonna be a mutiny.


You see my right hand as begging for kindness but
you’re blind to the fact we share a like-mindedness,

what you don’t see, you selfish little turd, is my left middle
finger flippin’ you the bird. We’re gonna

loot your mansions and torch its walls, you’ll call the
national guard but beware what befalls:

We’ll dispel your sheltered delusion as those guardsmen cross
over to the revolution, joined by citizens tired of patrician derision

electing leaders who’ll send you to prison, limit your egregious
wages and implement worker ownership in defined stages,

and if those pols prove corrupt or effete, once more we’ll take it
to the streets. To hell with the Geneva convention

your obliteration is our intention, no apprehension in usurping
your dirty dollars as you petulantly stamp your feet and holler,

and we’ll learn how to share those riches—despite what we’ve
learned from you sons of bitches—so get used

to your new life in the sewer, your mafia slowly skewered, the 1%
torn asunder laid six feet under, never more will we knuckle under,

and my smile will stretch from ear to ear as I wash down my
Wagyu burger with imported beer while riding in my limo

to my private jet taking 60 former vagrants on vacation to Phuket:
Asshole, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet…