If we reduce
It to the bare bone,
Man stands alone,
His purpose to produce.
He is a mere factor of production.
What a reduction
Of you and me
To a robot who can not be free.
Texts that Marx and Bentham wrote
Of such stuff.
I have had enough
Of the dreary theory
Produced by long dead sages.
By those who live too much in their own head
And try to force the world to conform
Will not halt the curse
Of those who too much water drink
And in think
Ideas of varying hue
Which, no doubt, they believe to be true,
Then foist them on me and you.