Poetry

January 31, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

US/Thierry Ehrmann image

 

 

By

Michael Spangle

 

 

 

Green Harvests

 

 

                                                Manipulating genetics to harvest obscene profits

                                                Overbearing litigation to crush all competition

                                                Natural selection given help at chemical gunpoint

                                                Soybeans used as weapons to drive away all threats

                                                Agribusiness seeds cash into most fertile pockets

                                                Nutrition takes the form of sophisticated formulas

                                                Truth is caged away after going through a roundup

                                                Ominous signs of tyranny are what we have reaped

 

 

 

 

Not a Dime’s Worth of Difference

 

 

While Republicrats and Democans shout each other down,

And to, such pure perfection, play the role of evil clown;

The sheeple stand befuddled, not knowing what to think,

But wonder why their ‘leaders’ are making such a stink.

 

Integrity is pawned in the tragic Beltway Game,

While self-sacrifice and honor have left the town in shame.

High ideals are touted in grand speeches on the floor,

While making deals continues, midst smoke behind the door.

 

Each side will make excuse to find a way to tax,

And fill their bills with pork, laid on the people’s backs.

Both parties justify their endless need to spend,

Not caring that the debt will haunt our children without end.

 

The fault is not all theirs, as if we have no part,

When we sell our souls and votes, and think ourselves so smart.

No leaders will arise, to stand up straight and tall,

As long as spineless voters will, for their tales, fall.

 

We’ll have no men of honor, nor women true and brave,

As long as we the sheeple, have handouts which we crave.

Until we break the habit of living on the dole,

Those in the halls of power will own, as slaves, our soul.

 

 

 

 

 

Michael Spangle

Michael describes himself as a techno-geek with the temerity to write poetry. His work often employs wordplay. He self-identifies as a surly old curmudgeon. He’s lived all over the United States, just about. Married, with two grown daughters, Michael resides in Minnesota. His Christian faith is central to his worldview.

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