Mister Grumblecock was a traveling salesman
A dinosaur in this virtual age of click and buy
But he is an element in the overall Master Plan
A first hand witness who can effectively lie
All the while keeping a smile upon his face

Mister Grumblecock is a man of luxury
Who will not settle for the common whore
While drowning himself with martinis into obscurity
His sole desire is more, more and of course more
Like a false gospel with promises void of grace

Biztopian experts desire an asphalt domain
A world where digits on a computer are supreme
“It is good for business” no reason to explain
Efficiency and compliance the ultimate dream
Who cares if Mother Earth has a desecrated face?

Mister Grumblecock is experienced in the deal
Weapons, narcotics, sex slaves, it’s all the same
At the end of the day nothing is truly real
Everybody is a piece in a gigantic chess game
What is wrong with keeping the poor in their place?

Mister Grumblecock sits riding in a jet plane
Lusting after the stewardess desiring a tryst
He is a fine businessman, what more to explain?
Still in his mind a lingering doubt does persist
Exactly why is he running so hard in this race?

Mister Grumblecock died of a heart attack
Not a single person cared enough to mourn
In this world of life we can never go back
It’s a one way street from the day we’re born
Mister Grumblecock always the Jack never the ace

John Kaniecki in an author and poet. He has nine books published (see his Amazon page). You can visit John's website and his blog. John's poem Tea With Joe Hill won the Joe Hill Labor Poetry Prize. His work has been published in over seventy outlets. Read other articles by John.