Sovereign eunuchs, castrated by choice,
Chosen to volunteer: silence their voice.
Humbly accepting of what trickles down.
Bitterly blaming the poor side of town.
Hardly unique or exceptional sheep
Served up for shearing with hardly a peep
Glued to the screens of their virtual world
Pissing their pants as the flag is unfurled
Symbols excite them to borrow and buy
All by design, no one thinks to ask “Why?”
Hoover up billions from workers below
Late fines and interest increase what they owe
Never paid off, debtor’s prisons await:
Privatized jails, convict-labor their fate.
Bankruptcy courts for the corporate folk.
Plea-bargained “guilt” for the innocent broke.
Still some can vote for the lesser affront.
Sort-of like football, deciding to punt.
Better not try for the run or the pass.
Best to let someone else fall on his ass.
Offered twin puppets, outraged and incensed,
Never vote for. Cast your ballot against.
Told whom to love, whom to hate, whom to fear,
Then asked to “choose” (with a cynical sneer).
Suitably gelded, fresh meat on the grill,
Capons in cock-fights. Or, “Democrats.” Still,
If a Clinton should need you, they’ll always be there;
Them or Obama, to sell you hot air.
“We are the ones who have waited for us,”
Endlessly recycling rhetoric. Plus,
Payouts upon leaving office grow huge;
Once they made rain, now they surf the deluge.
Past time to quit with the “hope” and the “change.”
Both right-wing factions have rendered them strange,
Unrecognizable concepts congealed
Into a contract: opaque, signed and sealed
Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2019