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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