Groh
Poem
I came late into the world,
Born a slave like you and you.
My mom was a smart gear, but a gear,
My dad was a hardworking gear, lifting rocks, cutting mountains, a tough gear, but a gear.
Born at the periphery, I was born to be a gear too;
Small slave, small cell, small voice, small future.
All is done to me,
I am nothing.
All is done to you,
You are nothing.
Alone I am nothing,
Alone you are nothing.
Living the life, the perfect life before the perfect death, with the perfect eulogy, with grandchildren and great-grandchildren, like a Rockafella, like a Corleone, like Brando.
Living the vida porka;
Perfected nothingness;
High-end compliance;
A luxury life, but a pork life.
Eat, shit, fuck, sleep,
Rinse.
Another morning,
Another milk and cereals.
A pork is fed until it is slaughtered,
Emptied of its blood.
Humans are fed just like porks,
Until they die satisfied with an empty brain,
Un-alived, as the fucksters coined this neutral term,
by the erasure of their humanity and judgment.
The question is wrong.
Not “life after death” but “life before death”.
You must choose to be born;
by default you are dead, and they want you dead without ever having lived.
They want you a pork in a barn:
shut up and eat!
Born to be a slave,
Born to be a luxury pork;
A slave, a pork, a gear, a Rockafella.
Who cares, as long as they can eat their milk and cereals and pretend that living as a pork is okay?
You are not a slave, a pork, a gear, a Rockafella,
if ever you talk to your brother.
Brother, brother,
Let’s not live as porks anymore.
Let’s be something.
Let’s ask for what is for all but kept by a few.
Let’s play the democratic game which favors the ones who are actually turning the machine.
Democracy! Some porks out there should freak out.
Equality!
Tolerance!
Fairness!
Justice!
Ah…they fear humans and humanity!
The big porks that push the big red buttons
are not brothers,
They are thieves,
Tricksters,
Loving injustice,
Loving brute force against the masses,
Loving war and conflicts.
The big porks, not nothings like the little porks.
Little pork, little pork,
Let’s rub our noses together,
Listen to each other with our big, big ears.
Let’s eat together, shit together, groh groh together.
Stop eating the cereals and hitting the snooze at 7 a.m. each morning.
Fuck the cereals, fuck the snooze.
Groh! Groh! Groh!
Little pork will grow big if only he had a brother.
Would you like to be my brother?
Groh!