The Business-Deities

The faceless few dictate my life
They consider it a “duty”
From their air-conditioned offices
Overlooking the dirty city below
Sitting in their expensive leather chairs
Supporting their well-paid derrieres
The attempt to choose my direction for me
Tell me what is best for me, and my family
And “honour” me
For letting me be a part of their world

And yet

I’ve shared a lift or two
with a few of these business-deities
When they have dared to venture down
from the top of capitalist mountain
to walk amongst their damned

and you know what?
they won’t talk to me
or even look in my direction
Even though I fill their coffers
already overflowing
with the spoils of my work

nope, they’ll ignore me
they’re too busy panicking
at being stuck in this metal container
and the fact that they are breathing in
the same musty oxygen as me
the average office plebeian

and I can see it in their mind
ticking over slowly, as they look at me
terrified
knowing that as soon as they return home
they will bleach themselves clean
of the grime of the normal office worker
especially the one who wears black
and who knowingly goes out of his way
to intimidate them and damn them
to live their awful lives
with him in it

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