The squeeze

The squeeze

We’re in a Mexican standoff
With no one to talk us down
Glock gold fatal stranglehold
Malignant but for some

Power’s too diffuse
Words echo through space-time
Black oily reins no use
Because we despise it

Knowing nothing of them
Not a moment’s inspection
Even holding our attention
Ends in vinegary revulsion

Pro tem they form empires
Built on pyramids of data
Networks of metastatic knowledge
On an already divided world

Our monarchies moan
Our oligopolies creak
Our democrarchies putrefy
Until we fill the void