Pius IX

Marx told me that all my sentiments were clap-trap
That my veil of religious, political, and social associations
Were systems of obligation centered on capital
Centered on the means of production, the harboring of property
He twisted his off-gray beard in a pantomime of contemplation
Barking histrionics at the top of Prussian-bred lungs
Stout legs planted firmly on the grimy table-tops of pubs
He climbs over the fencing of text and jeers at all I hold dear
Marx has a hard-on for the bourgeoisie
The spectre of communism - made whole by tangible shades
Appreciable modes of trade, accumulated methods of living
From the idealism of patriarchy to the arbitrary ties we bind
Journeymen fumbling blind through nonlinear time
We shut the artisanal shop, we deign to feast on slop
We are horrified at the turn of events
Yet we perpetuate their occurrence; in this masochist
display of perambulating ungracefully, of tottering
between privatized interest and public domain property
We create crises in order to fulfill some vague yearning
For action, for excitation, for depression - foggy misfortune
We yearn, again, for the dripping faucet, the empty pantries
The immolation of systemics in our households
Screaming for bloody chaos, ruinous affairs
We sprint from what was to what will be
Grimacing in hopes that we'll somehow skip the present
The double-dutch of self-deception
Take your plunge and follow Lenin