We

image borrowed from bing

We

“And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,

sermons in stones, and good in everything.”

--William Shakespeare

We 

are the wage-slave mortals who toil

with non-objective blinders 

strapped to our temples,

scurrying like reeling rabbits, 

as dismal as weed-worms, degenerating 

into pox-ridden weather-bitten ill-nurtured

creatures riddled with kidney stones, 

exerting our precious life’s blood 

for those dastardly dewberries, 

those abhorrent corporate coxcombs, 

those maltish monkeys in the corner offices,

finding ourselves sadly dependent 

on the humble wages they pay us, 

less than a turd’s third of our actual worth,

a pauper’s portion of the big pie, 

just 

a monthly fustilarian posterior penetration

with us on all fours howling like dogs,

forced to wear their varlot-bitch name tags,

our battered senses dulled by their chronic

sodomite insensitivity, bending low,

eyes cast down, back’s arched, 

genuflecting to the beasts,

kept in cubicles like cattle,

forced to submit to their ruttish behaviors;

we, 

the people, 

we, 

the work force,

we, 

of the 99%,

we 

who serve,

laboring sans sympathy

from the craven overseers, 

as if under-employment and out-sourcing 

was our manifest destiny,

we 

have been talking amongst ourselves,

preparing to build battlements,

if democracy continues to be folly,

if Presidents continue to be powerless,

if the future contains more failure,

more destruction of our dreams,

we

have made the plans,

and the word “revolution” will not fully describe

the day the sled dogs turn in their traces,

first eating the harnesses, then the whips,

then the masters.

Glenn Buttkus

July 2012

Posted over on Flipside Records
Posted also over on dVerse Poets-OLN55

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