Dragon Hoard

Diminishment jabs in every drum of the finger to the steady beat
in the bar, loud talk of high flyers
hard to guard fuckers, dry spells – televised sport
consuming minutes like damp match sticks, struck
to light the way through dank hours
rank corridors, dour
past giant spiders sucking fatted calves dry to jerky
in the cavernous hall along the path to public service
where the rich and powerful bear witness
to the depletion of their vast hoard of dragon’s gold
breathing hellish fire upon the uppity little people’s demands
talons lashing at the threat of civil rights…
the terror lord of the grand mountain cares not for civility
its crushing jaws snapping
at minimum wage legislators,
grinding health regulations and benefits beneath scaly hind limbs
before shitting on the twitching remains in good faith
broad wings spread across the sky, soaring
like an American eagle
An aerial ballet – swoops and loop-de-loops amaze
while it ferries cheap labor over the border walls
they legislated to create
in the sweat shop fields
and furtive taverns
where they may keep a happy reptilian eye
on the enslaved work force of their malevolent creation
small scared serfs in the great wyverns shadow
breathing the smog of its desolation
under the dim television lights
feeding them new obsessions, dazzling distractions
these easy to guard fuckers

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