The Masters Of Consumption. Poem by Tom Higgins
The Masters Of Consumption.
Useless eaters,
still breathing,
and breeding,
too many
useless eaters.
Shut, cut,
save prosperity,
get rid,
use austerity,
no shelter
no food,
no healthcare,
no brood.
Free space
no scum
left to face,
so the
master race
can live
self obsessed
shallow existences
without distraction,
obliviously
consuming
and eventually
dying,
and being
consumed.
Tom Higgins 09/01/2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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