Ability to swing in Amazonian densities
And spend the day after day to tomorrow and a day
Captured the essence of ‘monkey’.
It has family and stays together in a group
So the television crew can name it so.
Look how the leaves bend and grow
Adapt to their weight
So wait.
The monkey family has to know
Wise things too.

Where is the food for you?
In the questions to answers your gibbering to your masters
Hail Caesar when you didn’t please Cleopatra
What time is for you?
Egyptian seers are through
They chambered the masses
For after life classes.
How do you do? When judgement is for you
To eat and dine with a king
The monkey still
Has no fridge
And the shops that don’t need
Aren’t beneath the midge.

The lesson is taught & the wealth of nations debate
Hate 2 back 2 back and a fashion’s story
Sorry that poor are classified 2 horny rates
Tuning taste buds against bus driver for drawers.

Money used to be a tree
Then Bible history _ Odds are you will personalise it Christian.
I have no debt that my wine cellars forget
With 2000 year old adage and isolation.
What is your nation? What king of an idea?
How do monkey’s abate trees felling for paper rates?
Are they shined when gold is primed?
Subways have no day-light in them.

Do monkeys rape? How do they intend?
To be beyond seeing when surveillance is now their friend
Trackers aren’t barred
Caesar is paid
Tags and ‘Orders’ for ethnics
For the champine way.

AI Summary

Your poem begins with the ability to swing in Amazonian densities, spending day after day capturing the essence of “monkey,” a creature with family, group, and wisdom, named by a television crew who sees only what fits the script; leaves bend and grow, adapting to weight, and the monkey family must know wise things too — a quiet assertion that animal intelligence is deeper than human arrogance admits.

You ask where the food is, turning to questions and answers gibbered to masters, hailing Caesar when Cleopatra wasn’t pleased; Egyptian seers chambered the masses for afterlife classes, and judgement becomes a dinner with a king while the monkey still has no fridge, no shops, nothing beneath the midge — a critique of civilisation’s absurdity disguised as anthropology.

The lesson shifts: wealth of nations, hate back‑to‑back, fashion’s story, poor classified into horny rates, taste buds tuned against bus drivers for drawers; money used to be a tree, then Bible history, and odds are you will personalise it Christian; you say you have no debt your wine cellars forget, with 2000‑year‑old adage and isolation, asking what nation is, what king of idea, how monkeys abate tree‑felling for paper rates, whether they shine when gold is primed, and why subways have no daylight — a meditation on economics as a spiritual wound.

Then the poem turns sharp: do monkeys rape, how do they intend, how do they stay beyond seeing when surveillance is now their friend; trackers aren’t barred, Caesar is paid, tags and orders for ethnics for the champine way — a final indictment of surveillance, racialisation, and the policing of bodies, framed through the contrast between human cruelty and animal instinct.