the cabals in the corner
The Cabals in the Corner
by Kaleem Raja
Wake me from my coma,
Save me from the prurient and inane.
I can’t tell the psychiatrists from the insane.
I know nothing,
Lesser men even less.
And we know not of the machinations of the female mind.
As pigs guzzle gritty troughs of decomposing grass and rind,
I am September struck
Watching professors grazing
As the masses swarm around the swill swathed across the cesspit.
Cut throat and throats slit
For less than a pound per flesh and bone and blood and guts.
Because you must
Have a reason to justify the carnage at the carnival;
Stick a pickaxe in the face of a war child,
Bludgeon an old man into a pulp,
Snatch a morsel from the mouth of the emaciated,
Lead the emancipated back into chains,
Inject poison into the veins of a dying man,
Make millions from poverty.
The tills roll as the old world order stands dripping blood on a cross,
While the new one cracks a whip, stripping liberties of their minions
From the shadows.
The cabals in the corner
Do all the above and call it aid.
It’s a morbid, blood drenched, banshee wailed parade,
Lugubrious state of affairs…