New Rules is an imperialism poem, a reflection on outside interference in the political landscape of resource-rich nations.
New Rules
God help you
if your land is fertile
your tribe spills liquid gold
your leaders are wild or bend in the wind.
Kings, queens, and merchants will grease palms
hatch Machiavellian plans to grab the riches
roots allotted to you and
cut the green grass on your side of the fence.
The donkey's kick to counter imported blueprints
is hoofed by its chiselling clone
a qualmless ass
with a book of new rules.
All is fair in love and war /
kill, jail, injure, lie, oppress, steal, maim,
bomb, manipulate, grab, eradicate, eliminate
silence, gag, dispossess, burn out / you and yours.
They'll fish your pond in silk suits from glass towers
spinning spurious yarns, casting smooth lines
crowing to save you in case you're ass-backwards
black is white and white is black.
God help you
if your land is ransacked
your tribe spills blood
your leaders are dead or bend in the wind.
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