The Kingdom of Oilygarchy..............(jk)

I have noticed that many of the men who work in,
or are connected with,
the Oil Business,
have eyes of dark black oil.
It makes me wonder if
their blood is also black ,
and if you crushed one
with your heel,
when his shell cracked,
would black oil ooze out?
From the Kingdom of Rublyovka
on the outskirts of Moscow
Snakes a highway
With no potholes in it.
This Kingdom is surrounded by very high walls
Impossible to climb
Because they are painted
With a special kind
Of slime.
And in this Kingdom
Are thousands of giant castles
Where the Oilygarchy live.
The Oilygarchy have many workers
To do their chores
Like bringing up their children
Taking them to school
And home again.
The Oilygarchy Highway
is patrolled by The Bruisers
Big Bellied policemen
With big sticks
And guns.
When the King of Oilygarchy
Leaves his office in the Kremlin
To go home for his dinner
The Bruisers wave their big sticks
And close the road,
While the King of Oilygarchy drives past
With his bodyguards.
For 20 minutes, the whole Oilygarchy Highway
From the Kremlin to the end of the Kingdom
goes silent.
Everything stops.
Life stops.
Thousands and thousands of little people
in their little cars
going about their little business
All have to stop...and wait...
in silence.



The trees wait.

The leaves wait.

The dogs wait.

The air waits.

The sky waits.

The wind waits.

The grass waits.

The silence waits.

In silence.





Suddenly, the silence is broken
By a loud whistle,
Blown by a big Bruiser,
And the sound of sirens
And from nowhere,
you can see the flashing lights
Red, White and Blue
As the King of Oilygarchy speeds past
hidden behind the darkened windows
Of a great oil-black chariot
Which looks like a shiny giant beetle
Scurrying along the oil-black highway.
Then, the Bruiser
Waves the traffic to start again,
And bit by bit,
The whole Highway
From the Kremlin
to the end of the Kingdom
Starts to snake along again.
The little cars beep their horns
Tired of waiting,
Hungry to get home
to their little families
Their little children,
Their little dinners
And their little lives
In their little flats.
Of course, the rich in their big expensive cars
Also have to pull over
When the King comes past.
These, the tenants of the walled Kingdom of Rublyovka,
Who usually look down on the Littler people,
Are also made to feel
A Little Small.
This is one rule of the Kingdom
Which has been observed since the days of Terrible Ivan
the Tsar who killed his own son.
It doesn't matter how big and bad you think you are.
There is always someone bigger
To make you feel small.
And the King is the Biggest.
Every day
When the King of Oilygarchy
Has his breakfast in his Oilygarchy Castle,
he sits at on a giant oak throne
But his little legs
Don't reach the floor.
He eats his Kasha
Then goes to his office
In the Citadel of the Kremlin
And the Bruisers
Close the Highway again
While he goes past.
Morning and Evening
The same routine.
All the little people
Who sit in their little cars
Going to and from their little jobs,
Feel angry that their little lives
Are stopped like this
For one long hour every day.
"Life is too short for us to stand still so long like this!",
they murmur, under their breath
So the Bruisers won't hear them.
"Why must our lives go on hold?"
they say..
"For the King of Oilygarchy,
Who's feet don't even reach the floor?".
But the bruisers
Wave their big sticks
And the litttle people
Dream their little dreams
Trying not to think about these Big Holes
Ripped into their Big Hearts and their Little Days
And why they must continue
To be Little
And Be Littled
By Black-Blooded Beetle Kings
and
Pot Bellied Bruisers
In the Kingdom
Of Oilygarchy