The dictator

 

The dictator
(a tribute to a domineering ashramite)

Do this, do that, clean this, clean that – hey, you missed this bit.
Let me see, let I spy for you to cry.

My eye can tell what you have and have not done, what you do and want.
Naught in here can pass behind me, nought is the joy I bring to bliss.
My mind awaits to critic your job, but I don’t wait to judge your fate.

At any rate your state is mine, to play with as I will.
Can’t you see you foolish tool, to plea or flee is a waste of time.
Just beg for grace and break your back, till the sun fades and the whip cracks.

Work for God you useless dog. Work for free is the penance to pay.
In the name of service I control you, and in the name of God I abuse thee.

Selfless service is your chain, Seva Yoga is how I reign. 
What karma you have to bear all this, so work work work to burn your lot.
And while you strain, sweat and swear, I will relax in my comfy chair.

For my love is not for you, I am free to sing on my throne.
You, alas, a slave of sorts, can only scream and dream of a life before!

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