On Competition

What is left of the left,
That left the people without a jest,
Of care and service or a helping hand,
Instead the hungry mouths that still demand,
To deliver the promises of generations past,
For a pen, a paper, that might just last,
Beyond the note scribbled by hand so quickly,
To pass me down to another he or a she,
Who sends me onwards to another mule,
Who returns my request to the non-governmental,
Because the circle runs around the block,
Connected to all the stumbling blocks,
That back in the day to my great displeasure,
Were used to confound me to any measure,
That those against it could somehow manipulate,
To the wants and needs of the profligate,
And justifications and legalese,
Could somehow to my anguished joints bring some relief,
A respite from the kneeling to which I'm so fully agreed,
To participate, to join in, for this wheel of greed,
And in my children I'll plant this seed,
To lower, to cower, to beg, and to plead,
For only in adversity can anyone succeed,
To gain against my companion thus will I be freed,
From the chains of restriction caused by an oppressor's iron fist,
And thus I'll commit to my grievances list,
To struggle and vie for the fair one's eye,
And crush the others into a deadened cry,
And the winner I'll be at the end of the tunnel,
And into my progeny, this lesson I'll funnel,
Til the wheel completes and they carry it out once again,
Til alone I will stand at the edge of the fen,
And into the boggy mess will I gaze and stare,
At the dark green so subtle and only one more to go,
I'm face to face with the final and last standing foe,
To subjugate her, relegate her, to my sole service,
And know that on that fair skin whose only caress,
Will be the brush, the breath and the kiss,
Of profanities and orders that issue from my lips.