Maggots

Maggots

The fat Corporate Maggot
plays the ribs of the starving children
like a Xylophone.

He whistles while he works.
He's happy in his job.
We got too many kids anyway.

He gently lifts the pennies off the
dead man's eyes.
"He can't spend 'em anyway."
"Not where he's going."

Don't these Maggots have children of their own
who will eventually come in contact with the very poisons
their fathers produce?

Maybe they are so far from any dirty place or they are born
with a natural immunity?
I wonder what it's like inside those Gated Communities
With their armed guards?

They never see anybody who is not like themselves.
They never know the creatures that slink and skulk outside their gate.
Those "untouchables" that are just lazy.
They like being dirty and smelly.

The Maggots have no souls.
How could they?
A person with a soul and a heart
Could not cause such suffering and pain.

And not miss a wink of sleep at night.

They learn early on to pass the buck.
So that when the damage is done and the people and animals
are dying they can say "It wasn't me!" And they actually believe it!

The eye of a needle is very small.
And liars and thieves who these Maggots are
will have a hard time passing through.

I hope if there is a God that these Maggots will
get what they deserve.
Sooner rather than later.


© 2011 Philip G. DeLoach