The source of bad fortune – K.B

The source of bad fortune

 

 

A woman. Men.
Pay, pay,
You wake up
In the same
Nightmare.

Money,
Bills,
Shut up,
Don’t speak,
Don’t utter
A word.

You hope
In every service
Given a gesture
Of generosity
But Nothing’s free

And the heart takes
Blows, it gets severed
Every time
A little more
By savages
Dressed up
Like snakes
Searching
To absorb you
With their tentacules.

And they undulate,
And it makes me sick
And I wanna puke
In my trench.

I already carry so much.
Already paying with my
Health.

They say don’t fight,
It’s a bad sign,
But if you don’t
You die.

If you don’t,
You don’t get eat.

Yeah, I’m not an
Appeased fuck
In my big house,

I don’t have
A pink filter,
Only painkillers
And real killers
Hovering around.

They say don’t
Fight,
But if you don’t
You get destroyed.

I have fists and I have
Flowers.

The latter are being
Trampled upon.

Anything sacred
Is getting polluted
By consumerism,
Mass media
And heavy
Unnecessary
Industries.

They made us
Sick
Now they want us
Dead.

It won’t happen,
O Jesus,
O Lord.

It’s not happening
As long as I breathe.

It used to be fun
To live,

It ain’t no more.

Anything works
To get some
Benefit.

I’m a social worker,
Not a bitch
Or a rug
On which people
Walk carelessly.

It’s a story about
Dignity,

Ignite the inequity.

Burn trash,
Justice buildings,
State prisons,

Kill the real
Criminals
At the head
Of States :

Reassuring smiles
On T.V and fists
Of gold
In the ass,

It hurts…
It hurts….

It hurts
My feelings.

 

 

K.B

 

 

All rights reserved. 2019.

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