Game of the gods

Game of the gods
7.16.19  11:19PM
R. H. Garbo

Resting on their laurels, sitting on the clouds in the face of the sky
Roaring like a thunder, preparing for a lightning to strike at once
Making their people feel uncomfortable, frighten to fry
A game of the gods, the rich ones, powerful with dreadful glance.

Their people are like slaves in the land of dumb and dull
They built empire from the serf's sweat, blood and tears nipped from fight
A whip for every vassal's cry, A bullet for every rebel's skull
Toasting a glass of wine for every conquest, laughing in sheer delight.

The modern day slaves waging war inside the sweatshop,
With a  crisp white shirt, silk ties, leather shoes stepping on their wits to lick their master's ass
For a small monetary emolument serves as bribe and trap,
Oh good Lord, the just One, how long this painful truth would end and last?

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