Run

Run , Run, Run

Away before our time here is ended.

Ended, ended.

Or be crushed

By conglomerates

Who are

Bent, bent

on bending your will to their will,

Till you will have to sign

Over your will,

Willing them all your signs and fortunes.

And just when you think you can take a breath,

You trip and you fall and you'll be caught.

The test is simply of your legs,

Endurance and torture you will face.

You can't run

the race, without sufficient pace.

Run, run into

Oblivion.

Find solace outside

of the race.

Hide and escape from the conglomerates,

Learn self-defence, stop

Living in the past tense,

Find smarts and sense, and

Learn to jump over the fence,

Find and fence the stolen pence.

But if you fancy

Living in the absence of violence,

Try and do it all in silence, or the pestilence,

The epidemic

Will catch up with your arguments

And force you to live out of tents, and in sheep pens.

So learn to sign yourself 

A check

For a hundred horrible deaths.

Or run.

 

The End

86 comments about this poem Feed