Category: Arcane Poetry Vol. 1

Economic Warfare: A paper war of cash, cheques

And casualties time has forgotten, bloodless corpses

Hollowed-out edifices, houses of corporate capitalisms

Entities not human, Frankensteins of a legal system

Not accountable for their abuses, not apologetic

Just profit machines, monsters to serve their masters

Propelled by the sweat of paid slavery, voluntarily submitted

With no other choice but to obey, threatened with poverty

The plantation allows us to go home, where the media coerces us to spend

A circular cycle of fear, entrapment, labour, gratification and fear

Worse than dead, dead broke without hope of satisfying desires

An illusion of success, an enigmatic ladder, a stairway

To heaven? Or an elevator to the top floor

For some impossible to get on; for some impossible to get off

From the rundown slum, the suburbs or the penthouse with a view

All just cogs on the gears of this battle that never ends.

I feel like a criminal

An outcast, incorrigible

For my misanthropism

And my refusal to comply

With the fire within

That burns to destroy and create

And the struggle to resist

What I know to be wrong

So I live my life

With freedom of mind

If not of action

And begrudgingly submit

To a world of false ideals

With a hope of a master plan

That is yet to unfold

That I should profane

These pages with such thoughts

A delicious guilt

Of defiling something new