In the cathedral of manufactured quiet
where Taylor Swift counts streaming revenue
as Palestinian children count final breaths
her voice carries across stadiums but never holds the weight of genocide
When the tide turns, when sales drop, when focus groups demand it,
she will speak then, only then, when silence costs more than speaking
Taylor Swift ain't no prophet in this arena, Taylor Swift is just merchant in the temple of lies
Now Beyoncé, empress of selective outrage,
her posed formation means nothing
when formations of tanks roll through refugee camps,
her crown heavy with diamonds mined from silence about mass graves
But when market research shows, when demographics shift, when staying quiet kills the brand,
they will find their voice then— conveniently, righteously then
Beyoncé ain't no goddess in this church, Beyoncé is the calculating priestess of profit
The Kardashians, architects of emptiness,
building empires from manufactured drama
while real drama unfolds in operating rooms without electricity, without anaesthesia
hundred million followers hanging on every word they refuse to say about ethnic cleansing
But when algorithms change, when silence becomes unmarketable, they will pivot,
reinvent, rebrand their Konscience
Kardashians ain't no deities in this temple, Kardashians are false prophets of the attention economy
DJ Khaled, the unholy son of the Palestinian earth
stands deaf to his homeland's dying screams,
millions of records sold but zero words for his people's salvation
The irony burns like white phosphorus lungs:
A Palestinian artist silent about Palestinian genocide?
But when cultural winds shift, when staying quiet becomes career suicide,
he will remember his roots then, claim them then, profit from them
DJ Khaled ain't no son in this sky, DJ Khaled is a prodigal coward counting coins
Madonna, high priestess of reinvention, will reinvent her morals when convenient
Kabbalah bracelets and spiritual tourism
while the actual holy land hemorrhages children
She dances around truth until truth becomes profitable,
then watch her transform overnight into born-again activist when market demands martyrdom
Madonna ain't no saint on this rosary, Madonna's chameleon worshipping a golden calf
They all got the same publicist, the same crisis management team,
same focus group data showing that silence sells until it doesn't,
that neutrality pays until it costs, that staying quiet works until it kills the brand
These golden calves will melt when fire gets hot enough,
they will speak when algorithms demand it,
they will find their voices when voices find them profitable
Between market research and quarterly reports and demographic studies
showing genocide denial doesn't test well anymore,
they will discover their humanity
they will conveniently discover their outrage,
they will performatively discover their principles
But the dead children will still be dead
and their silence during slaughter will echo longer than eventual carefully crafted statements
approved by legal teams and blessed by shareholders
Resist the golden calves
Oppose merchants of silence
Remember who spoke when it mattered
Remember who stayed quiet until it paid
Truth outlasts trends
The dead will remember the living's silence
The market may forgive but history will not.

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