When it becomes an Issue

Grease that bloodletting company machine

cash in your slave wages

someone’s goanna get screwed

doing all the dirty work

unleashing trained baboons.

taxes get paid

so the

do nothings of society

 thrive and breed

us out of existence

replacing us with their clones


TAKE from those who HAVE

and give back NOTHING in return.

that way the old boss

can change his mask

before someone sees

what the bastard looks like.

’cause everyone who’s half way honest

is too goddamned busy

caught up in their own wheels spinning.

no one knows why

That poor old derelict gave up

who sleeps on a sidewalk

in a cardboard box

in south central.

But, that man’s set free

cause’ that’s all he owns.

it took

losing himself

 to find himself

to finally understand who he really is.

All those young college grads

who got the straight A’s

were clever enough to learn how to use that piece of paper to

open those doors

and climb that corporate ladder

just like a trained ape.

those strings

began growing out of their hairy pores

connecting the dots

 to all their legs, arms,

ears, eyes, nose, cheeks, and

every friggin’ joint and orifice on the outside of their bodies

measured, gauged, controlled

and tweaked.

the strings also traveled like a cancerous virus throughout the inside of their bodies

pushing up through their necks into their moldable brains

taking hold of and perverting all their thoughts and feelings.

 the strings thrust their bodies up in the air

and they got into their cars

mindlessly driving to work

the strings pulled up their lips and made them smile

when all they wanted to do was for once in their lives feel sad for what they’d become

the strings made them sit up straight in bumper to bumper traffic

grinding their teeth

and think about killing that F____R riding their asses right behind them

who honked his horn

cut them off

and flipped them the bird.


hope was finally lost


souls were changed

by all those soulless strings which pulled on every atom of their person.

These victims were so goddamned depressed they couldn’t take it anymore

those strings made some hang themselves in their own garages

while their wives and children watched in horror.

we begin life sincere

yet, there are those who find success

stepping on people

crushing their gentle spirits

destroying lives

for the sake of narcissism

They drive by the innocent’s tombstones

thumbing their noses at those they’ve murdered

in that fancy car

 living in that fancy house

spending all that money

on those phony facelifted boob job wives

and bratty bastard offspring.

These are those who would never say they’d lost their way

They would shout confidently

‘follow me, I know where I’m going!’

and, the many would follow

in the same footsteps

because the masses believe in those they


 believe in themselves.

2 thoughts on “When it becomes an Issue

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