Westward Ho
Sails unfurled in disarray
Helm unheld to swing away
Canting yaw in surf wet roll
This ship of state without a goal
Some would call this gone adrift
While fools would call it freedom
Some of us are somewhat miffed
While shoals just wait to see them
Passengers without a clue
Trusting to a motley crew
Of greed crazed re-elected fools
Who just ignore their rusted tools
And shed their blame by pointing
And know they're worth anointing
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2007
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