NaPoWriMo Catch-up: I heard the Leader speak about the poor

Sign on every day. Become a spectacle
for the self-righteous to masturbate
their sense of amour-propre over.
A hanging without broadsides
or the last words from the scaffold.

Wear a uniform. But not too much of one:
we want to see your unqualified muscles,
laugh at the folds that your skin has developed
from months eating poverty food.
So, no cloth then: tattoos will suffice.

After all, we have skyscrapers 
to erect, floorspace to let.
Our troops must be supported
to fight wars against those countries
whose aristocracies don't purchase
real estate in our capital city.
The banks who make donations to our Party
must remain going concerns.

This is the Law of Recovery:
no pittance without penance,
no gruel without abasement.
No butter...no butter without guns.