Unredacted Redactions
Then came the checkers of the facts
Patting themselves on the backs
Moccasin minds that leave no tracks
Piling up rumors in stapled stacks.
It matters not whether pro or con
They all sing a slightly twisted song
A mantra that makes the right seem wrong
Or at least filtered through an inhaled bong.
They’ve all been trained to speak with one voice
Forgetting that that is giving up choice
And chanting is naught but a lot of noise
To drown out the roar of the “preachers” Rolls-Royce.
So study the graphs, the charts, unredacted
And lean to the side to which you’re attracted
But remember the “facts” can all be retracted
With the heavy dark lines of those who attacked it.
John G. Lawless
©7/24/2022
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