Birthright
Blessings are curses, culture is fascism. Utter spiritual bankruptcy- the true price of material wealth. The facade of the self-made man. The escaping hot air that is social mobility. Standing tall on graves of the fathers, as if such riches were yours alone. Eclipsing the shoulders you stand on is a pipe dream fed to the plebs. To wish, reach and bite at the dangling bait is the mechanism ensuring generations of servitude. The oldest verse in the holy book of market worship. My weakest moments, embarrassing indifference. Surplus of shit, deficit of empathy. If I ever cry poverty put my mouth to the curb.
Don't stop stomping until my gums are as empty as my words.
Writer/s: LISLE MOORE