It is imagined by some that Capitalism is a giant
Rampaging the countryside, stomping villagers,
Eating cattle whole, tossing houses to the sea.
Or, perhaps, a system vicious, a great grinder
Pressing human ambition into mere competition.
Capitalism is indeed terrible, do not mistake me.
But mark that human methods prefer to be imagined
Powerful as a ten-foot brute, oiled and perfect
Like a never-missing machine. The more that I live,
The more that I think that this is not so. All of our practices
Are full of accident and folly, a mouse riding a unicycle,
Spinning plates on a stick on its head, Evil Knievel
Approaching the gorge, weaving in and out towards
Destinations unknown.
Life, friends, is terrible. We must not say so.
There are worse things than Capitalism, or maybe
There are things that Capitalism is lieutenant to.
They castrated a man on Europe’s doorstep
And posted the footage onto social media, because
They know that they can. As far as the eye can see,
It is scams, and lies, and distractions, and agendas.
Surely, some revelation must be at hand.
Meantimes, we will stumble onwards through this great bliss,
Hoping not to wake any ogres slumbering.