Goblin Market Part XII

By CBramkamp creative writing, Poetry Comments Off on Goblin Market Part XII

The Florida exodus was not working out.

Roads did not accommodate wheels, the carts

ditched along with 15 pounds of dried soup, a gallon of mayonnaise

Enterprising goblins snatched up products

and sold them again at the trail head.

It will be fine, they assured the new travelers

Each group weaker than before.

Buy, buy, buy

You will need all this mustard, cereal, peanut butter

 

The refugees were wiped out by a hurricane.

We knew that, the corporation advertised

How do you feel now?

1)        deluged

2)        dehydrated

3)        disgruntled

4)        dead

Fantasies hugged the left coast, no where else to go

but the grey pacific

dreams swirled around in the tide

the directors came to shore and pick up the remains like driftwood

and captured them back onto film and computers.

Yeah, yeah, the hunched man emerged from the bed of a truck

he eyed the girl.

Sam shook his head.

I just want to hear the stories, the old man insisted.

Tell me yours, she gestured to their fire

and I’ll tell you mine.

 

At the Timeless Tavern

A young man grinned, his teeth knocked out

a badge of terror gang encounters

Ignored the girl.  You were a Letter Man.

Sam nodded. For a time he helped the cause

he could change Terrorists to Freedom Fighters

re purpose Hackers to Liberators.

Angry to Righteous; we fight for you.

 

It was merely outrage and opportunity.

Just a historic confluence of Anger and Talent.

It’s not like the peasants weren’t armed.

It’s not like they couldn’t read a bus schedule

they stole into the heart of the beast

the city of walls, all breeched

whole collections of CEOs disappeared in seconds

gold parachutes do not open quickly

when thrown from the highest floor.

 

It was a good moment, it was a glorious moment

then the tide receded

leaving beached cities, gasping for air and temporary assistance.

Too big to fail

Except the most neglected

were the most angry

and in the end – they shattered the sky

With old plutonium and new resentment.

She threw a handful of dust

the grit blew away like starlings

Fear into flying

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