Koch Brothers
by Gary Hardaway
Chuck and Dave are old.
I should live long enough
to celebrate each death
as it's announced.
When Chuck dies, I'll throw
a party and dance, a little drunk,
across what I'll pretend
is the old shit's grave.
When Dave dies, I'll throw
another party and dance,
a little drunk, atop what I'll pretend
is his cryogenic monument.
They're both too old
to hope for miracle cures
against what waits
for everyone.
After the parties, though,
there will be younger Kochs.
I won't outlive them. All
my parties will come to naught.
I was thinking recently about David Rockefeller, thinking that he should be dead by now thus freeing the world of his "population reduction" seminars.
This poem reminded me of that.
I faved it for the title. Now I shall read it, and fave it some more. *
I read it three times. The first for fun, the second to make sure I hadn't confused the words "dance" and "shit", and the third for more fun. Unfortunately you are right, tho, it never ends. ***
When the sun burns out, it'll be them. Them and the cockroaches.*
"I won't outlive them. All
my parties will come to naught."
*
Thank you, Samuel, Matt, Amanda and Sam for listening.
This is very real, and this part of reality is not easy to describe so well. *
It's all about the money and the devine rights of the rich. *
Thank you, Daniel.
* Capture the bastards!
Greed and egocentricity will out.*