Hey You, front run this...
Home loan, greed dream, blood food
we are a standing wave of liberty
who no longer have a home
for the land we loved that bore US
turned out just to be on loan.
freedom's hopes flow with jagged
clinks from crooked claws of greed
where once glades of égalité
stood sentry to a dream.
we bought the tale of working hard,
staunchly paying with our blood
raising families honestly, tho
worried sick as how to pay for food.
we never minded, much, your directors
& thought your boards were somewhat quaint
until, like jackals in a pen fed gravy
coated tidbits from a genuflected saint,
you lost fullness in your outlook
and sold your word of honor for slightly less
than what it takes to wink and nod
and down a drink, your hand up someones dress.
well it's time to pay the piper full and proper due,
with compound interest and with force,
for playing such loosely intoxicating
counterpoints, non-violently, of course.
If you'll look inside your bonus envelopes and
somehow see OUR million nearly triggered fears,
it's only all that glitters giving your eyes forecast
of coming storms, through cringing bitter tears.
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aaah Pink Floyd, one of my first clues that RnR was deeper than Long Tall Sally or I Wanna Hold Your Hand! but, who wrote that wonderful poem in this post ...
ReplyDeleteit actually was St Ronnie & the gelt ogres that wrote the story... i just channeled the words to the tune they've been playing as long as i've been politically conscious. of course after reading wm blake again (last post) the arrant synapse storm always sparks for a while.
ReplyDeleteif you play guitar and feel like putting my poem to music, we can get it to the mobs outside of GS & JPM & them stagecoach boys little hideouts on wall st. for a fight song...
hope your dreamhouse is proceeding apace. i too am up to my thighs in foundations and footers these days for the bathroom iam adding on the house.