Neoliberalism: A Ghost Story

“How do they bear my weight?”, I wonder…
Standing in silent depression,
Memories of bygone centuries weighing down
On their rocky shoulders.

They watch the water under the bridge;
As a great serpentine stream,
Struggles to wash it all.
All the lies, all the filth and all the accumulated waste of Progress and Development.
And neoliberalism colors the waters of Ganges.

I sit on the shoulders of giants;
Behind me a metropolis’ heart beats,
Down in the sewers, and the gutters, and the slums;
Where its dearest families live.
And in front, ghost of an once voluptuous river;
Stinks of methane and gasoline.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑