RHYMES
by
Tom Thompson

Federal Oaths
With faint oaths with the American people,

And fraudulent prayers under the national steeple,

The D.C. crowd has their hands in the till

And gobble up money beyond their fill.

The bill is sent to more normal folk,

Who are compelled to finance the national joke?

And what do the folks get in return?

A government thatís broke with money to burn

 

 

 

Environmental Enigma

Make the rain forest safe for the corporate state

And give no regard to the peasantís fate.

From what I hear, itís the biosphere

And global warming we must fear.

All that business about CO 2

Repeated by many but understood by few.

Although told by greens of distinction,

I doubt the stories of global extinction.

Science is the handmaiden of the corporate state,

And multinationals wait at the rain forest gate.
 
 

 

Promises

If I could be elected to the House or Senate

and keep my promises only for a minute,

Iíd have an opportunity for peculation,

and could rob and fool the entire nation.

But thatís whatís happening,

They rob the poor and pay the rich,

and always get away without a hitch.

Forget about notions of ability and need,

The economy rests on chicanery and greed.
 
 

D.C. Scam

Uncle Sam is conducting a fiscal scam.

Taxes to Washington then out through a sieve.

By the pile by the bundle, itís hard to believe

with clandestine and incredible stealth,

heís virtually confiscated the national wealth.

What do you think, of the rogues you elected?

What do you think of the thieves you selected?

Each deserves a mug shot with a number and a long solitary penitentiary rest.

Indeed put away in a common jail

With no chance of freedom or bail,

But the supply of culprits exceeds demand,

And peculation is popular throughout the land.

 

Whoís In Charge?

Lost in thought and I donít know,

Who do you think is running the show?

Is it the rich? Is it the poor?

Perhaps a small elitist core?

It is a wise few, I hope to think,

If itís not, weíre over the brink.

 

 

Patrician Fraud
 

Iíve never spent a day with a Wall Street crook
 

I have no running bogus, and play no financial hocuses pocus.

But if I were King, it would be a delight,

If few of my subjects could read and write.

With no fear of popular duress,

I could grant my subjects freedom of press.

Iíve never robbed a bank with pen and ink, or caused a national fiscal stink.

I have no laud for patrician fraud,

But the beauty of democracy will never sour,

For regardless of the vote, the same thieves hold power

 

 
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