14th
Big Box
Walton would take the stars from their field
Replace them
With a simpering
Smiley face
Fill your pockets at people’s expense
Leave them raped and ruined
Destitute under the midday sun
Move on and
Devour another
Town, another business
Another country
Leave nothing by wrack and ruin in your wake
The American Dream
The white picket fence more for less
For you and yours
No chicken in anyone’s pot
No soup for you
Stone soup for me
Running out to buy
So you can work
So the economy can flourish
Grab up the stone axe
Stalk the woods in search
Of prey
Bludgeon the warm meat
Tear the raw bloody food
With Crest whitened teeth
The gore staining your Armani jacket
Running down the tanned arms
To lie in pools at your
Classically clad cloven hooves
Put the stars back on our rag
Let wave o’er the brave
And the feeble and downtrodden
Eject the devil from the details
And live in peace and content
A pile of bones outside your door
The skulls racked carefully in the back yard
Hung from trees
As your pagan fathers hung them
Brand your soul with the hot irons
Of degradation
Look not to the sky
Sam Walton is not there
Look not to realms below your feet
There is nothing there but ore
And precious gems for the taking
You are on your own, we are on our own
