We pay taxes on
Everything in the US
Even my cats and my dog
Pay taxes, and they're complaining
About how the cans and bags
Of food is half full and shrinking,
death
inevitable, fatal
stopping, ending, vanishing
grave, skeleton, audit, ledger
filing, demanding, calculating
perpetual, certain
taxes
some of the things that
seem too good to be true aren’t
be honest next time
At lunch, she cried, NAOMI SEX AT NOON TAXES, I MOAN,
The cat sneered and tipped over a cone,
MADAM IN EDEN, I'M ADAM,
He juggled a fig and a radish,
Then fled with a grin, leaving none alone.
Once was a beautiful lady
As pretty as she was crazy
Thought of as fool
Broke all the rules
Didn’t pay taxes crazy or saving
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
I am a Democratic Socialist
I believe that the People should rule
I believe that the taxes collected
should be used for each life-saving tool
For nobody gets rich on a island
and it isn’t just fortune or luck
It takes legislative-corporate corruption
it is capitalism, running amok
All those products the billionaires sell us
charging upgrades for every new year
Truth be told, if we just stopped the buying
it is they who would feel all the fear
For the rich only care about money
keeping Office is what Reps fight for
And the taxes we pay keep on feeding
the corruption that always wants more
Woke up yesterday morning with a dreadful thought -
fall property tax was due last November and this is
the end of January. I am a full-grown delinquent.
I am also recently widowed; my Mister always did taxes.
But God had brought it to my attention (who else,
could I hold responsible?) so I faced the music.
Went to the bank where they quickly advised
me - they don't accept early payment until April/May.
THEN at my confession, they don't take past-due taxes either.
The clerk's office downtown says the tax office has moved
to the county, only seven miles out at the new River Ridge.
BUT they've not been there and aren't really sure where.
With God as my pilot and maps on my cell phone,
I discover the yet under-developed GatewayCampus,
taking delight in God's mysteries of memory and momentum.
Sitting on the block of the day
Looking into amethyst abyss
No longer seen as hunter or prey
Disenfranchised like blue cold kiss
Watching the animals fight their wars
Knowing some win some lose
Feeling the wrath of attention whores
Singing their hill street blues
On the block of irrelevant images
Whatever the dress of the time
Homeless roaming toward suttle scrimmages
For resources of food courses limited line
Lemon love served in a soul bowl
From churches so big from no taxes
The church like homeless grow
Seem to me there’s no homeless factoring
We can pay for sports arenas sure
And ship athletes around the world
Leaving disenfranchised potential pure
Of the unhoused blue boys green girls
Sitting on my writer’s block
Not pretending to know wisdoms hacks
Really disenchanted with it all
Maybe my pen can bring me back to black
High tech time, yet, we
Still have hanging bridges
Where our taxes go?
Every year when taxes are due, I pay mine to the full,
Even though some other people call it a bunch of bull.
Some don't pay their taxes for there is an aberration.
As time goes by they holler, "Statute of Limitation".
They live in a life of luxury, these entitled few,
Expecting us to pay their way, since that is what we do.
The Statute of Limitation gives them a lucky break.
Never feeling that they owe, they just take, and take, and take.
And though the law may state, 'This tax is no longer in play',
An honest person loves this Land, and pays it anyway.
(And this applies to Everyone)
rising from bed in the morning
seeking shelter when it's storming
idly whiling stray hours away
dreaming there will be better days
fabricating a self-image
with a more prominent linage
doodling on back of a letter
shunning life as a go-getter
paying of various taxes
wielding rhetorical axes
stopping by the grocery store
dealing with muscles which are sore
waiting in the queue at the bank
musing why the page remains blank
finding the proper words to say
quickly dealing with come-what-may
filtering life's little lessons
leaving positive impressions
contemplating all that might be
if we'd just win the lottery
making life much less exacting
all in the action of acting
discovering what keeps us sane
among remains of the mundane
We never get away from paying taxes- even after death if owed
I'm doing my best, at what I can, I've absorbed some
Life from boy to man, uncertain at times, now i find
Times are uncertain..' Much fear and denial while some
Are tearing the curtains.' The established fear-mongers
Peddle; the lies, same as before, so much sympathy? homilys
DIsguise; and furore.' A main threat is something will be taken away'
As such is attempted, by night and by day you recieve your
Matter and always you pay, as the object decreases its value
But hey.! When you're all done chasing, and storing; adoring' all such
You in turn; will be offered as goods, pretty much! You'll be stored up
And cleaned up, and boxed up, for ill or for good? you get eulogised
Lionized, maybe buried at sea.? Or feted then cremated?
Or a diamond could be.? Its all human mullarky, from the
Start to the end, while someones always paying, Its death and Taxes my freind !
Someone once said
“The only assurances in life is death and taxes!”
I’ll let you read the fine print, I’ll send the faxes
All there is; is death and taxes!
Watch me grind my sliver axes
Watch the blade gleam in the slow moonlight
I like the way it sparkles in your hooded eyes
You have paid your dews, your pound of flesh for glory,
Fury for the masses…
You have been taxed & now all you have is me
Here too reap my rewards
As your vain opens, crimson flows like wine at the Eucharist
Unholy is my communion, your blood is my life!
As I watch your eyes go relax
All you have now is me at last
What a trip, as I wander to the holly-caust
The people I meet, the things they say, and do! Oh, My!
What a wonderful thing his Creation is…
This life you mortals live
As I have mentioned before
I’m the one assurance that some say is inevitable
As death and taxes, and your taxes have been paid.
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