Dystopia

It’s the kingdom of beans,
and beans are its prey.
It’s the era of shrimps,
and shrimps are at bay.
For every inch you tend to fly,
stick to the manual,
don’t stray.
For your meagre beanhood’s
sake, don’t stray.

It’s the kingdom of beans,
beans we all are.
Beans we ever tend to stay –
rich or ripped ass poor.
If you ever aspire to sprout,
they won’t even show the door.
Highway not an option,
consequences galore.

They’ll ram you,
split you and
incise through
your skin and
leave you to rot
akin
to a pinch of dirt.

You ask me who they are?
Of course, they’re beans.
In fact, they’re the more equal beans.
Remember Orwell’s Napoleon?
All beans are equal,
but some are more equal.

 

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