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Poem

As I walk this graveyard somber
Of a country shorn of life
Its gravestone reads, in the distance yonder
Stabbed by debt’s dagger knife

Our Founding Fathers, like demigods
Of a past enlightened age
Founded this nation, with musket rods   
And writings on a page

We the people, it was writ
Must perfect a union young
With stinging wit, this daring script
Was a rock at Britain slung

A golden republic, been thrown at our feet
They challenged us to keep 
From democracy’s thieves, from subtle deceit     
From apathy, and ignorant sleep

Have we kept our gold? No! It was packaged and sold!
By politicians - absentee dads!
How would our Fathers feel, if they could be told
That their children lost what they had?

Our Fathers would be, trifle a doubt
A hallowed kin troubled by din
Troubled by noise, the screams and the shouts
Of a country dying from within

With ethics abandoned, a sickness has crept
A plundering, gluttonous sin
These pitiful states, with mountains of debt
Belong in no handbook of hymn

Youth, why slave for a wage
To be took by taxation’s rake?
Why seek to be caught, in misery’s cage
For worthless currency’s sake?

Prepare instead, for the coming collapse
When Liberty staggers, stumbles and hurls
This nation, struck by a venomous asp
Expires, in agonied curls

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