Democracy and Orangutans: A reality

Atish kumar padha- 1

You are animals, purposeless and afraid,
In a vertical jungle, of steel-glass trees.
You are fish, fragile and fat
In frozen, bottled mineral rivers.
You are birds, brutal and bald,
Floating away, in smoke-choked skies.

Nobody has a plan,
Big fish eat little fish,
Rich men eat poor men.
Nature’s order. I am nature.

Ten rich men, and I am the richest of them all,
own this planet and its people.
All the rest are skin clad cogs.

Stoned, social security loving lazy lads
Have mental breakdowns but bald, old
Bernieng man will raise my taxes.
Jobless, filthy reporters, hunt my young stupid wife,
She just turned 18, my sweet exotic jelly bean.
They dig into my accounts, shit on my finances.
One knock on the Dome temple of law
And their slimy tongues disappear
With their failing, fake-news selling papers.

Paper people are such fools,
They live by that holy book,
Of this evil cult of equality.
Constitution? LMAO, LOL.
Constipation? Apt.
Fear trumps sex, so I’ll sell fear,
I am the savior, I am this decade’s Jesus.
I will mock that limbless man,
Uncurried vegetable, poor man’s sandwich.
Who is this Red Indian?
Cold blooded cannibal! Off with his head.

I have this side-hoe,
I call her Corporate Social Responsibility,
She’s the sane one, calculating and curved.
My Ivanka. Why did I sell her to that token Jew?
She’s their eye-candy, she blinds ‘em with that smile.
Blonde-white facade, over a negro’s heart.
No no I am not racist, My predecessor is a N word.
He bombed Syria, all bearded men were jihadis.
He had an ape for his wife and he sucked at golf.
Glib, sweet talker, spent so much on old people.
I say, chain him, and his friends, Lemme call the KKK.

The World erupts, when I teach little fat man a tidy lesson,
One last communist, in his Hermit Kingdom,
It’s all dust and gas and poison now,
That mushroom is so delicious.
Jobless lefties are in a state of shock,
Twitter has stopped working. What conspiracy!

Loud colors of chaos,
The yellow of my hair, and grey and a violent red,
Blackness and permanent peace.
There’s disunity in their broken dreams,
Faces, flutter and fade.

– Atish Kumar Padha

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