Wednesday, April 30, 2014


There’s a parade every day:
Eyes shifty and agog,
Heads of empires
Built like Gog and Magog,
Matters they can’t recall,
Unless it helps to pin
A rival to the wall.

There might be among them
Some who are innocent,
Who don’t deserve
Guilt by being present.
How it must hurt
To be blamed
For crimes never
Even entertained.
How it must kill
All sense of self-worth,
Any remaining goodwill
For justice on this earth.

But some of them
Must be the ghouls
They seem to be
As they lick the smile of fools
Or exit in a plastic rage
Or sneak around the back -
Experts all it seems
At playing the media pack.

They have bought their wealth
With malfeasance and craft.
They have taken the shortcut
While the rest of us must graft.

We know only one fact;
One we cannot redraft -
The ones who got away with it,
How they must have laughed.

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