The Real Enemy

You’d best chain those super-rich before they chain you.
But oh, my dears, you’re too busy fussing and fighting
with each other to take notice of what they’re up to.
They’ve got all the money.
Or they’ve got control of all the money.
 
They—or the public relations strategists who work for them—
started all the fusses, all the fights.
They set all the fires.
And you got spooked, hooked, hoodwinked by one or more of the various traumas
they’ve cooked up to distract you,
the various conflagrations they’ve arsoned—real or unreal—around the world
to scare you, to terrify you, to make you mad
so you’ll look the other way while they make off with all the money.
 
Yes, you’re concerned that people will be permitted to discriminate against you  
based upon your sexuality,
or that woke people will force us all to live in a fantasy world
where men become the women they’d always known themselves to be
while women become the men they always knew embodied their authentic identities,
or you’re terrified that one of these bad hombres streaming over the Mexican border
will come through your window with a knife between his teeth  
and do God-knows-what to you and yours,
or you’re disappointed that Vladimir Putin will steamroll Europe  
with the help of his Donald puppet,
or you’re outraged that the Palestinians are being massacred with your tax dollars,
or you’re breathlessly awaiting the rapture,  
knowing the war in Palestine will hasten the end times
and you’ll at last be swept up through the clouds,
to meet your Lord as He returns at the sound of the last trumpet.
 
But here’s the deal: the super-rich have all the money.
Let me say it again: they have all the money.
One more time: They either own or have control of all the money.
 
You think they give a shit whether an ant like you lives or dies?