Training Schools for Slaves

Strange like the standing dead trees
On a hill over swampy murky muddy waters
Where hundreds of black crows
Gather to bask in the Sun or Moon,
In rain or sunray or moonbeam

There is spirit power in this place
Hear the crows call!
Some of these little ones
Have souls thousands of years old
We ought to lend them our ears

Some powerful men have harems
Multiple wives,
multiple concubines, slaves, chattel!
Most women live quiet lives of desperation
Lonely women in harems,
Lonely women in marraiges,
Lonely women as concubines of the oh-so very rich

The sacred hoop,
If there ever was one
Has been broken

Sick, twisted, unfair, stupid
Machine feeding without flinching
Cows and chickens ground into slices and nuggets
Only after they’ve been mechanically fucked
And sucked dry of their biological functions
Abused for a lifetime
Then stripped down to the bone
By underpaid dark-skinned women
In little towns contaminated
By the work they do
For the Machinery of our Society

Cunning schemers on the outskirts
Of an African city near the Red Sea
Gather children of prostitutes filling orphanages
That are really a brothel keeper’s
Training schools for slaves

Slaves from Africa in Arabia,
Looking in Mecca for dignified servitude
Interfusion, mass confusion
Earth in chains

Workers on welfare in the USA
Still committing suicide over a toothache
Eating dirt or eating cake
When you don’t get given
You have no choice but to take

Now we’re all choking on this terrible lie
Choking on our tears
With painful lumps in our throats
We can’t turn off our feelings with our remotes


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