PATHS TO PROSPERITY

At the behest of cabalistic crimes
Unsuitable pseudo-democracy
Imprisons protest in a dim Bastille;
Wings fall apart, the centre cannot hold,
The logical conclusion of it all –
Localities bursting into sunblaze!
For in Our story tyrants always fall,
Their creeping grass-sprawl grows until the scythe
Of some rustic farmer cleanses meadow,
Let us emulate that sharp, sweeping blade
Removing weeds at roots discredited;
It is time to catch crime in the open,
Naming the criminals, shaming their lies,
Time to block the arteries of the rich,
Annihilating ancient penury,
Turning all debts to rubble, then to dust;
Confronting grunting swine eliminates
Untold amounts of Human misery,
& with such hogwash silenc’d shall arise
Intellectual bastions of hope,
Thro’ these the perfect Human anima
Flourishes like flowers in dark woods,
As we, The People, leave a better world
For all who follow on from these brave times.