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.