Words of Mass Detritus
I understand we Earthlings
Seek order amongst things
An analogy with ants
Their mother wears the pants
Yet nothing parasitic
Clips her subjects ticket.
Her warriors die in battle
Not like docile cattle
Falling for a social nest
Not some pointless quest
Like double you em-dee’s
Not hidden overseas.
A faceless nation employs
Children it then deploys
With guns in hands to arid lands
Where blood stains sun-baked sands
Shaded by whose banner, oh Queen
Who lives a life so serene?
With soldiers to secure your soil
Leeching off the workers toil
Trusting to an aged tradition
Of using fear to condition:
All contributions clipped!
All clip-evaders whipped!
“But everyone’s the same,”
I hear, “…it’s just a game!”
You know we’re not just ants
Or homicidal sycophants!
Ok, let’s play by the rules,
But not those writ by fools!
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