To Save a Soul— 

Come now, ye Abolitionists everywhere, 

there are souls trapped in terrible bondage.

Picture that soul, shavings of God,

Battered and wasted under thick skin.

These souls trapped by happenstance,

In the bodies of men, who,

Seduced by big money and tantalizing power, 

Let their souls lay useless and abandoned.

So come now, fellow liberators of our times,

Because the wealth is so corrupting,

The philosophies so awfully hostile,

The mind so clouded with sick fantasies,

What they must think to do what they do!

I’ve heard these things, first hand, friends,

The poisoned personality betrays a fearful naivety

Terrified senseless at our fellow humanity,

Silly financiers, woefully stupid magnates of industry,

Saying: the poor are just fundamentally different, see?

We must free these souls!

Those sorry creatures that boss the masses,

How we pity them, and their lost ways,

War profiteers made numb by their trade,

Yes, a sad mentality, for them necessary,

How miserable they are, with their whiskey poured neat

And their guilt like sinking cargo,

And their wealth multiplying like disease.

We must free these souls!

Think the soul doomed unfortunate to inhabit the dead-eyed glaze

Of the Silicon Valley engineer!

Poor Sméagols turned to Gollums all!

A micro-dose every morning,

To give their life meaning, because it erodes

Under large-language models and hate for the

Shit-covered sidewalks around nearby tent encampments.

Stilted, angry men: self-deceiving!

For their own sake we must take away the power they cling to,

The investments they sing of, damned to forever watch market trends,

Like petulant children, spoiled,

Ego a brick castle, bloody ramparts of Id and craving,

Do not take their pleas at face value,

When they whine and scream— they will do anything

To keep their precious curse! For their sake,

Cover your ears when they make their appeals,

It will be better for them, they understand not why.

They will return to the ranks of the living,

To work and be cared for, nurtured through their

Unenviable withdrawals. Poor men of former power,

To be nursed through this newfound discomfort,

Newfound mortality.

There will be no great pyramid for the pharmaceutical families,

No escape to Mars, no bunker with servants,

Nor digital serfs, no Little Saint James,

It’s hard to come down from unwholesome dreams,

But for that little slice of god inside, reunited with ours finally,

It has burst the bonds of selfish prison,

Can skip and play, freed now, because even the master is

Slave to his system.

We must free these souls!