Brazen Slaves Poem by Marilyn Redcoma George

smokey rays filter through
the haze of a new day.

The brazen slaves of capitalist gain
meander smooth like snakes,
from bed to bath to suit of armour
then to savour the toxic wastes
of liquid of solid, and then of gas
to send their brains to doze,
while they vibrant like mechanical toys
as the whistle shuts the gates,
shuffling weary like android rage
to towers of silken glass,
to abuse their senses with multi-tasks
that stream on and on and on.

The brazen slaves of capitalist gain
work harder than they know,
to prop to stock the world
with staff that do not know the earth,
elongated obesity
to stuff their designer rags,
language of how their money strangles
them to live in debt,
the brazen slaves of capitalist gain
skulk in their miserly mess.