The Grinder Monkey No Longer Dances For Change
Mothers everywhere
Listen
The grinder box is growing louder
In the voice of antiquity.
Don’t you hear it over the gears of the midnight carousel.
The monkey won’t be moving from window ceil
To window ceil collecting change
So, you better teach your babes to dance
And dance well
And forget their names
Or perish by them.
The role of the new grinder monkeys
Is for those born into an already spent life.
Didn’t you know things tend to unravel at the worst time?
But when is there a good time?
After all
All the celebrations have ended.
The holidays have been cancelled this year
According to the 12 O’ clock news.
The president claims we can’t afford them
And he suggests flagellation
As a replacement to a day off.
After all we have to save for the war effort.
What war effort?
Sorry
I mean
The war swindle.
This is what happens when the doors to
Bellevue swing open
The lunatics claim this a Christian nation.
Even Christ would cringe
from such serrated adoration.
And this is why the birth you now endure
Is a celebration itself
Of turning
Your sacrifice to the mad hour
To a generation of martyrs.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment