Posts
HOME OF THE BRAVE
Dear Mitt,
I’d like you to tell me
when
you became so afraid
of the world
you actually made
where mortgaged lives
polluted skies
endangered dreams
denial schemes, all slipped
half buried beneath your bottom line.
My country tis of thee,
sweet land of voter ID
land of wall street greed
purveyors of endless need
more ostrich than eagle
head down, furiously
kicking sand into the gears of change
facing facts with fatuous fictions
Beamed right
at that quivering center
where old fears and rusty saws
are sharpened
for deeper cuts
Not well-funded banks
and unfunded wars
but right at those oh so
soft and tempting organs
where the most vulnerable among us
live.
Land of the hedge fund’s pride
land where one-percenters reside
on every gated mountainside,
let freedom
from regulation ring
and rally round that highly leveraged
flag boys
which 47% of us don’t deserve to own
even
one thread,
one stripe,
one star.
