FAT OF THE LAND: A MOCKERY OF OUR SOCIETY.

 FAT OF THE LAND

The street is littered with filth, 
Wares put out on display, 
 flies hovering about.

Seller’s with eyes that have beheld so much horror and struggle,
 foot wares that have trekked miles,

  all crying, come, buy our goods.

                                                   

Then they enter with their noses up high, 
hailed by the very people who despise them, 
riding in their posh cars, 
Looking well fed and rounded,
 despising the very filth they arose from.

With their hands in their pockets, 
they grab wads
upon wads of money bills,

 casting it down unto the street,
 into the ever ready hands of those who put them in power, 
the ones who pour daily prayers of generational curses,
and bucket loads of insult,
on this very people with necks thickened by fat.

Everyone screaming
 not me!
 don’t blame me!!
its not my fault, blame the system!!! 

After all,
 if the land be fat,
why not dip in our hot knifes,
 let us have our fingers oily, 
let it drip with melted fat as we eat and eat,
 till the very fat chocks us up.

  Buyers, sellers,
all saying,
 we are just trying to make our daily bread,
  that is what they all say.
 By that, we mean the crumbs that fall from the tables of the so called "high and mighty".

Like clock work,
every 4 years,
we suddenly have revelations, we become soothsayers and prophets,
 the scales miraculous falls off our eyes,
 buyers, seller and politicians alike 
scream from rooftops and radio houses
We recognize our mistake they say over and over.
 But nevertheless,
with the coming of the lot,
 they cast the same rotten vote.