Monday, April 4, 2011

Little Pig-Faced Men in Suits: a poem

Little pig-faced men in suits
send shivers down my spine.
Bribing politicians
and calling it lobbying.
Profiting from war
with defense contracts
and oil contracts.
Watching the war
on media channels they control
Spinning genocide and imperialism
into progaganda about
freedom and terrorism.
Watching the war from board rooms,
counting profits.

Little pig-faced men in suits
driving luxury cars
in gated communities.
And I wonder:
How can they sleep at night?
Do the faces of burned children
haunt their heads,
resting gently
on Tempur-pedic beds?
I hope so.

Little pig-faced men in suits
have been doing this for years.
George Washington:
a slave-owning aristocrat
whose face is preserved on money,
a fitting memorial.
Why do we put our
politicians faces on money?
Because they are for sale.

Every war we have fought
has been, first and foremost,
about money.
Not freedom.
Not democracy.
(See the collected works
of Mr. Howard Zinn)

Why did we go to Vietnam,
Iraq, Kuwait, etc.?
So that, after we had
destroyed them with missiles,
we could destroy them
with capitalism,
with sweat shops,
with lax labor laws,
with Nike, Wal-Mart, Chevron.

Little pig-faced men in suits,
you belong in jails,
way more than the minorities
you've exploited with
racist housing policies.
You made the ghetto,
not them.

Little pig-faced men in suits,
I realize things are
more complicated than ths.
I realize I might be wrong.
But consider this:
If there is even a shred
of truth to what I'm saying,
we're still fucked.

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