Washington
They're selling plastic Jesus's
in the halls of the senate,
putting band-aids on open wounds
that ooze when you breathe...
Trading worthless paper, cigar deals,
'in God we trust', or not!
puffing out their ashen chests,
strutting like empty headed roosters.
And the children of the dream
bow their heads and blindly walk;
the meat grinder turns his wheel,
the spineless monkey dances!
An empire falls in sterile silence,
throw the helpless to the lions!
no food, no water, no oil, no power,
gridlock, and a broken bow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
