Homonym Plunder

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with foe piety
they pray upon us 
these profits of death
these bottom-line martials
who make the rich idols
while the poor suffer a loan
and suffer always alone
caged in a sell
ate daze a weak 
losing hour minds
as the mighty eight the week 
oh, how they whined and they dined
and licked every last peace 
with our bodies on a steak
and our blood read as meat
the world’s now in vein
as the son starts to brake 
on the seize on the land
on the cracks on our souls
on the waits on our feat

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