They fight for something, some fragment of power, then when they don’t get what they want they complain and ask for concessions. Whining spoiled brats clammering for the teat. They pushed for more market share, more customers, more space to stretch out their business. Greed and avarice still warm on their lips. When they get overwhelmed they cry and whine not caring that it was their grabbing that got them into the mess in the first place.
Never happy, never satisfied. Their internal duress is exhibited in an external grabbing, of anything and everything. They scheme for new ways to dominate, to coerce an environment of little to no resistance, the worn out elastic band that is society. Just take take take and mockery and derision when we ask for a give. Some leeway, some piece of what was taken, what was legally sanctioned and apportioned by these governing bodies and multinationals.
They give you shiny bobbles and tech orgasms and you curtsy and bow graciously for the succor they toss your way, spending hard-earned money on bribes and entreaties wrapped in “choice.” These selective rewards fogging up our collective conscious; velvet draped bonds to tether us to the riders on the storm, their own thunderous creation to boot, precipitation of power and the life debt.
From birth we become owned and sold off like fleshy trinkets at auction time. Hyperbole? Maybe. Maybe there is no systematic degeneration of rights and liberties, no back room antics and plots mincing with pressed and curled fingertips. Maybe the blind man seeing is an illusion, a technicolor dream enveloping the negative wishful thinkers, the lost souls not knowing where to hold firm and where to direct their fight.
Cantankerous bull dogs looking every which way for the hand, the one that feeds and strikes, and becoming senseless. See no evil? We perceive what we want to perceive, what we’re comfortable with, the harshness is the bitter pill we put off taking for fear of taking action. What would we do anyway when we see the man behind the curtain?