With the luxury of leisure expense,
the revolutionaries of today can purchase the words of the poor
for a visible consumption that affirms their righteousness.
These revolutionaries are quiet in their storm,
as they dress themselves with correct words and approval
as they pass their ethical capital from one to the next.
The middle class revolutionaries pay to have the appearance
of not having much at all.
To them, there is no place for the abundance of misery
for misery looks appalling and is in bad taste.
The root of their subsistence is apolitical and forgiven, for the blood of labour
that lines the pockets of government grant schemes.
The blood of labour is an abstraction from another era,
a metaphor for dispute removed from chicken blood and cow muscles,
the slice of machinery and speed of conveyor belts.
Compassion is a matter of choice: selecting where to give it,
to whom it goes, when it is convenient.
The important words of ethical revolutionaries are forms of justification,
how to be, continue to be, what it means to be,
another promising inertia for the movements that are always impending,
a state-sanctioned philosophical crisis about thinking about thinking.
The revolutionaries of the middle class are one purchase away from the truth,
one citation of another suicided prophet away from vicarious integrity,
one more inspiration away from making the beautiful choice,
nagged by their compassion, of joining the ranks of the poor for the greater cause.
The ethical revolutionaries of the middle class will condone empathy
for invisible labour, but be sure that you will have to buy access to their
dedicated research on labour’s history.