Why do you continue

To say that the money is what matters? To tout it as the stuff of life.

Why do you perpetuate this fakery, born of parlor games

Played by the rich to fool the fair?

Made so to sport with one another.

A collection of beliefs tied onto itself like a useless ball of string. No beginning, no end.

Can’t be used to tie up a tomato plant, or hold up your pants.

Wind it and you can steal, or save, your labor, your life and your things, without calling it “theft.”

Dole it out in tokens, give it up gladly, gather with greed.

When kings of real time, lie and smile, why do you still

Carry the ball for them? When your life is at stake,

Your home is ruined, and your family afraid, or sick,

Why do you ask where it is? When the ground you stand on is trying to shed you,

purge you, bury you, all borne of this odd little sentiment:

Money means something.

The titans of old did not frivol with such piddlance. They bet with lives, and loves
and sex and fate.

Then came the mortal ones. So afraid, they schemed instead. How to take

more than one gave, how to ravish glory. How to amass more

Than you?

The fires burn orange, and still we try to win the thing strangling our very life

The ball of string melted at the edges, spun with fooling and fright, enslaving the carrier, that never unwinds.

 

#EndCapitalism

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“Mercy Mercy Me” is a conscious nod to Marvin Gaye’s amazingly beautiful and prescient song.