Why I Am Neither A Marxist Nor A Liberal

You are restricted to one room

Of someone else’s choosing.

You get one book

Of someone else’s choosing.

You’ have one meal

Of someone else’s choosing.

The many plant the seeds

And do the farmwork.

The few enjoy the fruits.

‘Live and let live,’ they claim

As you, the unworthy oxen,

Wear the yoke they give you.

They pound you

With their hammer

And hack you with their sickle.

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