Historians take note/that those who crave a vote/distort and make up lies/for their historic prize/no politician dares/to narrate his affairs/but as the Holy Grail/or maybe fairy tale.
On Father's Day don't get me/a necktie, por favor/I've got a hundred of 'em/hung from my bedroom door/they're pink and green and yellow/with patterns large and small/they all have one thing common/I really hate 'em all!
Good old Joseph Biden/makes journalists feel free/he's told his people bluntly/to use no sub-pee-nee/to find the finks who tattle/on government mistakes/He'd rather deal upfront with/the consequent headaches.
I am a cliche poet/transparently mundane/most people see right through it/like unrolled cellophane.
Our butterflies are dying/and the bees have took a dive/the flowers wave alone now/and there's silence at the hive/yet men insist their poisoning/is just a tabloid scheme/and few there are who ever hear/our planet's silent scream.
No comments:
Post a Comment