Pockets Lined With Jade
We are the pests,
the pesticidal sprayed.
Look into the sky,
where the cocktail is laid.
Survival depends on immunity.
Some ask,” is there a God -meaning unity?”
“What happened to our global community?”
Is not our fine brother,
looking over our nest?
Our sovereignty is at stake, at best-
you jest?
When will human kindness
wake up from their blindness?
The worm is in the net.
How much more atrocious
does it need to get?
Seated in a house of cards
where all the players played,
performing all their evil against
a bright charade.
The indigenous ones-
simple-minded and blinded,
in their beds were made.
Bled until their eyes were gone
for pockets lined with jade.
-M. Jacobs
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