The One Percent

There’s a vacuum being created

sucking in our souls,

a space where we suffocate,

where all hope evaporates

at the whim of the one percent


who live up in the clouds, dedicated

to digging us deep dark holes

where we toil for scraps, us poor ingrates,

watch as our future desiccates

for the good of the one percent.


One day they’ll be nothing left,

no-one to hear as the bell tolls

just the stench of slavery, of hate,

of a burning rage at a negligent State;

the tools of the one percent.



This was stimulated by Jaqcues Peretti’s documentary – The Super-rich and Us.




Where once stood wealth
there is now a void,
a silent black hole
where only tears belong

Last year it glowed
golden in the sun
sparkling with pride,
stood there tall, stood there strong.

Then it was gone,
not a scrap remained,
no piling, no frame,
no concrete base, no trace.

The engineers came.
It had been, they said,
a mirage, a fake;
it never existed in the first place.

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