Best Politicalwork Poems
Giving billions of pounds to banks that just squander
Sharing bonuses and gifts, as they internally launder
To Mr Cameron, an alleged Prime Minister for the people
You work for us, do your job right, climb our steeple
Currently in our workforce, there are ten million or more
Aged over fifty, by the score, by the score
Pay them all a million, let's call it severance pay
Retire them early, ten million jobs now in play
With their monies they must buy, a brand new fancy car
Ten million cars ordered, a motor industry to travel far
A house they must buy, or a mortgage to pay off
A dying housing crisis sorted, no builders will scoff
To their kids who have become idle, youthful travesty
No excuses now, to schools, college or universities
So many kids will be removed, no hanging about our streets
Education being their answer, crime fixed, the ultimate treat
Buying fuel for their new cars, purchasing a few bottles of wine
Their taxes and expenditure, will leave the economy fine
What the tax payer has laid out, as they internally launder
Whom we have voted in, do your job, we'll grow fonder
Adapted from an email I received at work today.
The dream of love is ever earthly bliss;
The hope of love is found in one strong kiss.
The tyrant's dream is that all joy departs
From those he shoots with hate-compelling darts.
The dream of work is material success;
The hope of work is inner happiness.
The tyrant's dream is every dream to kill,
And every head bow down before his will.
The light of life is justice, swift and sure;
All dreamers and all lovers judged as pure.
The tyrant's justice, he shall get it, too;
His name be cursed around the world and through.
this nucleus of sweet christian craziness
sought after from 1096 onwards
with 60,000 strong leading the
kill-everyone-in-its-path-if-they-don’t-worship-the-same-character-of-fiction-that-we-do
campaign
stands tall within the canon of idiotic reasons that
humans have killed each other.
one has to wonder that if the devious concoctors of
the work of fiction known as the
new testament
had penned “mr. christ’s” death somewhere a little less sweltering
than the dry heat of jerusalem---
if the whole story would have been different.
think about it
what if the character of christ had been written about in the context of
siberia or perhaps the nether-regions of antartica?
certainly the freezing cold may have calmed down the
fanaticism to
follow?
those who will tell us that these lands had not even been
“discovered” yet
so they wouldn’t have suited the writer’s of said work of fiction---
well, i suppose that they walk around everyday, somehow,
on one leg---
because the other leg, bent upward,
always has the extended foot
shoved in the mouth of said believer.
an estimated 30,000 people were killed in the first crusade
alone---
muslims
jews
& even other christians,
died
because people who read a book
told the majority of people who couldn’t even read that book,
that there was sufficient reason to take up arms & go
marauding over water & land
to kill others
because they did not abide by the fiction which this book
“delivered.”
it is now 2011
& have the crusades stopped?
just how “holy” is this jerusalem?
just because it is the centerpiece of 3 cults of
fiction,
does not make it anymore significant a land mass
than that of
st. petersburg,
where a much
much
much
better writer
wrote the brothers karamazov.
but have no fear,
these itty-bitty revelations will not keep us brilliant apes
from continuing to club each other over the heads
until our brains splash out in the blessed
desert.
keep beating, keep thumping those clubs now,
until you get your precious little
armageddon.
You can't legislate poor into freedom
By legislating wealthy to pay
What someone receives for not working
Another must work for all day
The government can't give away something
Without taking it from some other guys
You can't give to Peter without robbing Paul
No matter how hard Congress tries
And when half of the people are thinking
They don't have to work to survive
Because somebody else is out working
And the government always provides
Then the other half gets the idea
That working's not worth it these days
Because somebody else gets the paycheck
And not working is really what pays
And that my friend is where we are heading
The end of the nation - that's all
You can't multiply wealth by dividing
And nobody wants to be Paul