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Bye-Bye Modern World
We squeak, like pips. The pincers pinch us.
On one side, our puffy-fingered betters
Haul away what's ours, our wages and our
Pensions and our dignity. They'll capture
All, and, when they're done, we'll see
The hands of time have had a backward
Spin, and we, once yeomen, will be
Serfs, and, on our other side, the
Hollow-eyed and empty-headed ones
Who'd have us turn our backs to
Science and to any other thoughts
Which aren't provided by their God.
Toil! Worship! Starve and die! And,
If you find an idle moment, shed a tear
And squeak in sorrow for the things
We had before the pincers came,
And they were pinched.
poem
by
Lawrence Beck
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