The glitterati and the shitterati

Man’s inhumanity to man

Framed in the gallery

Slammed in the back.
The inhumanity of wealth

The inhumanity of hunger

Staring at each other across a marble floor of indifference, where

For now, we walk in awe.  

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Virtuous Circles

Shape wet clay
Into cup,
Celibate, chaste,
Effective in its revelation,
Drop by drop by drop,

Spin
Effectual, efficient,
Faithful clay.
High-principled, honest,
In its clear, transparent glaze.

Incorruptible, inculpable,
Irreprehensible soft moral mud
My noble hands, on the level,
On the up and up,
Of your tender form.

Pure,
Regular, right-minded,
Righteous, spotless, smooth,
Unsullied, untainted, clay.

Up front, upright,
Worthy, of earth and time,
Coin and milk.

How I forget myself
In these virtuous circles
Thrown and thrust.

Erosion of trust,
Kneaded and fed.

Fired,
I will carry the cup
And beg.

Tonight we dig deep and dare
Bones and bits of resolution
To slide back down the slopes
Of this paradisaical evasion.

Ships pass through the blasted sound
Where voyeur, tenderly, lets two oceans kiss.
Whose lips are sealed with paper pound
Might steal the hungry serpent’s bliss.

King, president, and noble chief
Forge out your empty city’s spoil,
And tempt not reason, Eve, or thief,
Now your years arch over as on we toil.

A new nursery rhyme

This song can be used to help children learn about neo-liberal economics.  You will need a cake (cut into thirds), a farmer, a banker, an oilman, dice, and lots of hungry children!

 

The farmer wants a slice

The farmer wants a slice

We’re gambling with the economy

We’ll give him a slice in a trice.

 

The banker wants a slice

The banker wants a slice

We’re gambling with the economy

We’ll give him a slice in a trice.

 

The oilman wants a slice

The oilman wants a slice

We’re gambling with the economy

We’ll give him a slice in a trice.

 

The children want a slice

The children want a slice

But they’ve gone and gambled it all away

So we’ll give them a roll of the dice.

 

 

Private School

Child who plays in ever-decreasing circles

on land of values unknown:

A piece of a puzzle some of us borrow

and others of us will loan.

 

We will evaluate

We will evaluate,

We will evaluate.

Calculate the decile,

Into obscurity,

Your score,

Your means.

The long and the short

Of your poverty,

Your dreams.

Invest in our teams:

Medical assessors,

Educational directors,

Accountants, all,

And their guards,

Protected by the law,

To reveal, bit by tiny bit,

The luck of your hapless draw.

Should you query

The results,

The theory,

We will evaluate,

We will evaluate,

We will evaluate.

Before we have a revolution

Before we have a revolution can we just be very clear

about who it is we’re fighting and what it is we fear?

 

 

 

Did you ever see?

Three blind mice, see how they run

They all ran after the farmer’s wife

Who cut off their tails with a carving knife

Did you ever see such a thing in your life

As three blind mice. 

To wipe away children’s tears,

(and hide poverty’s arrears)

and to allay fears

(as the multitude nears),

our overhead conscience clears

as these taxless profiteers,

with their tactless sneers,

these do-goody dears,

pause from the usual bum-steers

and provide a quick weet-bix fix.

A sanitarium for drowning refugees.

Three jeers for the racketeers

and the cunning privateers.

And the countless blind peers,

lining the jetties and piers,

gawping soundless cheers.