Economic Voodoo and Slit Wrists
you have bombed me in the garden
where I spent my longest days.
I emptied the storehouse
of vanity and blasphemy,
and uprooted the weeds
just to smell the thick dirt
and huff its mineral tracks.
Yet my death, over and abound,
is a price
that no one can pay.
We gave our purses to the wealthy,
and walked the tightrope of new thought.
No one challenged authority
and greed became the most utilized expenditure.
And a ghost arose like Hamlet’s grandfather
from the ivy,
only to whisper our destiny is fulfilled.
The Ghost appearing to Hamlet -- John Austen