An Angry Economic Sonnet

The pain of restriction, austerity, runs deep
Into the marrow of our bones, switching
Up to down, while pompous rentiers creep
‘round declaring our multitudinous sinning
Shaming us as hollow men who work not well
Who malinger when ill, don’t want to win
Who hinder progress and perpetual growth.
But the ceilings have been reached, and we’re in
Trouble.  We’re the last frontier, the candy jar,
The last source of profit a cannibal economy
Of less can feed upon, as if an unfeeling glacier
Were to come and scrape everything away.
Must we have catastrophe before old belief,
Capitalism, die, and our souls have relief?

2 thoughts on “An Angry Economic Sonnet”

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