What Be a Billionaire?
An alliterative prose poem
A gaggle of grotesqueries are haunting the globe. They sit on golden thrones, upon mountains of skulls, surrounded by moats of slithering sycophants. These psychopathic parasites possess preposterous power, but they are low creatures, pitiable were they not so putrid. Their lack of largesse leads to layers of lard, leaving most so corpulent from their constant consumption they can scarce move unassisted. This beast, known as the billionaire, binge eats baked baby brains and drinks the blood of orphans.
They have a pernicious proficiency at pushing their preferred perspective on the populous, even as they plunder your paychecks. They are callous and cowardly, but they can control through coercion and consolidation, concentration of power. Tendrils twist out from their tremendous mass, traversing all terrains, traveling to towns from Timbuktu to Terre Haute, attaching to every ivory tower, consuming every treasure. Beware the billionaire, for it will burrow up your butthole, entrench itself in your entrails, and enslave you for eternity.
Neither famine, floods, nor fires, nor failing fecundity will facilitate a faltering of their faith in their own franchise. No enterprise intending to end their exploitation escapes their notice nor navigates their never-ending network of negation. Their effluviant emissions engulf the earth, choking your children, changing the climate. We cannot collapse their corrosive control, so we must mutilate their members, mangle the malignancy to mitigate their Malthusian machinations.
Behead the billionaires before they bury us all.
Originally published on PickleGlitch.com