Minimum requirement for life pinched off. Up the mountain blindly climbing.

Receiving bread crumbs in thankless blood, sweat and tears. Minimum wage slapped the hand that feeds fast food bellies to vote for more struggle in martyred justification.

Holding your bladder in frozen smile lined up for the next task. Holy glory in overtime saving complaints to look good to the almighty. Dragging hollow bones to the time clock grumbling un-digested cornflakes in the gut.

Minimum expectation weaved and mined in dungeons our grandfather’s built. Speeding up the hamster wheel to trick reality into smelling plastic pansies, walls closing in, hung with color pictures of conversational oasis.

The gall I shame you to insist your feet soak in the tub to break blisters on the floor. Retro fit the golden coffin nobly entitled to work ethic blue collar pride.

Hyenas wander the ledges keeping out spiders gated throughout cookie cutter houses. Minimum effort in consequence of a bad attitude sourced from intuition locked in a closet. Small business taxing mummies to hold up its dream spiking the punch in drowsy baby cries, shining the laser light towards the fancy key to take charge of the herd.

Dissolving hope to soul death lost in the kinetic bubbling up of once upon a time. Fuzzy voices praising the potential of all you can be. Tasting the fire of sweet satisfaction doused in briny swampland catching fish through the tips of ragged fingertips.

Ripping out the core of self-deprecating convenience making master rich, patting obedience on the back. Done when the floor invites us to rest our head that tumbled the body off the bed barely capable to press the palms together; forming an interception that shifts another day gone by in a new dimension.

Inviting mass productivity to shake the stage and force a void in business as usual. Picket fence fallen on yellow grass blown to the wind with parched earth settled delicately on the fine leather seats in the weekend convertible Un-garaged for the summer.

Indentured servitude building your crystal castle at two shakes of a lambs tail and the promise of cocktails at the end of the day. Pencil skirt and Windsor knot parading powerhouse wisdom locked in uniformity to convince the pocketbook that the ladder will appear in a smoke of praise gathered in exhaust fumes.

No fight left to go up against a lineage of capital industry embedded in nature and driven by the invisible ghost possessed by us all; Shedding layers of self-esteem, broken up by ambition to trophy attractions and love not of character but of status and steadiness.

A club of masters that haze a generation on the backs of peasants and peacemakers with false compassion to the plight of the weak, lazy and loyal donkeys that tread through the canyon trails wishing for nothing less than unclaimed significance.

Loyal soldiers content to wear the badge that blood made sacred and and suits made legal. Weary on my brother pulling his weight to hold the family together rocking the baby to sleep. Wonder more dear Mother watching children play in the field of buttercups.

Resting to dig deeper with the soul seekers blessing the wanderers escaping in patience, giving new earth in simple satisfaction to us all.

A Paradise Lost

Upon its victims and set behind a backdrop of revolution charmed in the book of History; Maybe to Repeat and comfortable to Not.

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