The Surplus Is In The Hands Of Misers Poem by Raj Dronamraju

The extra food is thrown out daily
They make sure to wrap it up in so many layers so as to make it hard to get to
They expectorate minimum wage spite in the wrong direction

Max insect curriculum vitae
Is making the best years of our lives fruitless and harsh
Like we were in an Ethiopian drought

I wish you would widen what you hold so tightly
And what you give out
Love and corn, everything is relatable to emotions and vegetables

In banks, they give out the illusions of zeros as tangible, stacked up, reflective qualities counted under security cameras and LED lights
In all the rooms of the country, zeros are elusive as contentment, weight loss, peace at 8: 00 pm when the end of the day is in sight

The obscenity of owning vast territories, indoor territories - your inspiration, the inspiration of misers, is warehoused in buildings the size of towns
To give that out to the unlucky run-off generations who can't break free
Pry open the deathgrip of capital's cadaver - He demands to take it with him