Mr. Monroe got a ski mask. Nothing
but a smokescreen for plunder, for
pillage, for rape, for robbery, for
exploitation, for OIL, for global theft
in the WEST. Indigenous lands don’t
stand a chance (don’t stand a chance).
US imperialism is the boogeyman,
the boogeyman, the boogeyman,
is the language of beasts in a three
piece suit, finding a loophole around
manual labor. I LABOR and RISK. I pull
on daddy’s fatigues, momma’s brand
of hope, and tuck a cigarette above
my ear, like Tupac in ’96. Death Around
the Corner is no reason to sidestep
the bag man’s kin–predators, cosplaying
as agents of change. Regime change–
a fattening of the pockets. Mr. Monroe
got them trained–sheep with infected
DNA. Neocolonialism runs through their
VEINS, grifters shifting, scamming, feeding,
and starting again; operating beneath
the stealth of night, balancing broken
lives on cracked trotters, using military
might to enforce lies, deception, and
more LIES. He might put a bounty on your
head. He might steal your MAN. Up jump
Mr. Monroe, like a clown in sinister make
up and a power TIE. WAKE UP. WAKE UP.
REFUSE TO OBEY. REFUSE TO CONFORM.
REFUSE TO EAT HIS CHERRY PIES.
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