“
Crypto Cryptid by Stewart Stafford
There's no point in hunting beasts,
When you're the game you seek,
Idle trigger finger behind the gun,
Leave carcasses rotting in the sun.
Billions springing from blood;
From gushing oil to a crypto flood,
Cutthroat games played to the hilt,
Philanthropy, as rich boy's guilt.
Bought your justice and rude health,
Faux angelic in Faustian wealth,
Scalpel wielded for everything's price,
Trophy mansions rank with vice.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reser
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And what’s even more fucked up is that you totally have it in your power to make things better. Like, in all of history, there has literally never been a group of people better equipped to avert catastrophe than the billionaires alive today. The technology you have access to, and the resources, and the money, and the influence, and the connections—literally, no one in history has ever been more powerful. Ever.’
‘Yes. We’re like gods,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘But gods can be capricious, Mira
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― Birnam Wood
― Birnam Wood
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