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Poem



One-third off,
sixty-six percent marked down quality
At the voting booth bazaar,
base gypsy thoughts are belly dancing 
around your capitalist-veiled head
You like what that smiling politician said;
promising you a lot of green bread,
come get your lying share
Saying you gon have so many job offers,
corporate courting you to their employment bed
Every four years,
work is always 
glamour sold as being so sexy
Balaam’s mule is shaking his hemorrhaging head
Dire diagnosis: Voter apoplexy, I’m afraid — 
campaign promises are clinging on life support
State of emergency inaugural arrival,
listen to what the Surgeon General said:
Democracy is flatlining ... ‘bout to go brain dead
And the lobbyist mortician merchants are free-market shilling:
Get the funeral voter discount,
an ivory coffin is life insurance tax-cut pre-paid
Vote for the wizard you do know ... 
follow the Oz path to perdition, 
where yellow bricks of cruel compassion are laid

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