Mr. 1%.

AuthorRobertson, Henry
PositionPoem

Protester, drop that sign and let me pass. You want to share the wealth? I'll kick your ass. MUnless I'm richer than your wettest dream You'll have no more wealth than the plastic gleam You toss when you unwrap your latest toy. Besides, what would you do with it, punk boy? Watch TV, drink and download videos? A burger, a beer, a pack of Oreos, That's your ambition. I'll make you a deal, If you're ready to settle for what's real. Your thumbs are fluent with a phone, I bet. Talking is easy work with a headset, Or logging data in a cubicle Will get you women by the futonful. Not you? That's how it's been since the first chief Took a few warriors and turned cattle thief. He told his heroes as the spoils he split, "While other men hoe weeds and shovel shit, You'll drink beer in my stockade on the hill, A power center built for us to fill With all the value working fools have made With plow, pick, hatchet, arrow, net and spade. My might has done this. Swear yourselves my men. Live by the knife and never toil again." The chiefs took risks that now have made your ease. We took your jobs and shipped them overseas So you could keep your hands clean. Men of blood Did what it took to drag you from the mud Against your dull will. Now we're businessmen, And what it takes is business acumen. There is no "one" about the one percent. Some keep their fingers clean living off...

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