They Tax Our Axes
They want to tax our axes
Then, take away our trees.
They impose cell phone taxes.
Then, laugh and shoot the breeze.
Lodges, matches, bridges, britches,
Dresses, dishes, finches, fishes.
Hinges, hitches, hedges, hearses,
Lenses, lynxes, luscious lashes…
They dip their hands in every pot.
Spreading wealth around they say…
Big Business taxes are a lot…not!
The newfangled economic way –
The middle class will love to pay!
© January 29, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment