Bourgeois Art

Self-consciously I type,
Admittedly,
My art is shit.
Compare it to the Detroit art,
The worker,
Whose body will twist
Whose mind will spin,
A flywheel of Euclidean geometry
Computing steel press vector's
To avoid amputation of the hand.

The metaphor of value,
Men
And women
Extract its Shadow,
Squeezing use from matter
Low entropy from property,
Profit from the earth,
The mineral slaves of Chile,
Sculpturing the dialectic death
Of capitalism,
The worship of animal hunters,
Who ate sheep
In the central parks of billinium,
Then fed furnaces in Germany,
Not that we all don't kill,
Man progresses in unison
Holding nothing
But hands.