I find myself sidewalking everything So Silverstein was lucky to know where it ends Will I ever be privileged to discover such a thing? Too many trivial needs distract from its pursuit But how am I to know? When it's time, I only cared for my toys The way the sheeple only care for their handouts Do tell; if the Pentagon lays off 800,000 people Will we know they're telling the truth about unemployment When their words flow between mouthfuls Of stolen fruit and gold At the table of the elite So tell me, who is John Galt? I sit at a table with a mind that knows how to think for himself And can't help but think this is the purest form of elitism: Until at last the time has come For the imminent end of all serfdom Brought by the brawn of the brainy How are we to keep our heads when the others ***** us over Take our heads clean off to see the contents Only the strongest can withstand the attempts to skew ideas Upon who's minds the lying flies Forced off by intellect The simple last defender of God and liberty Big Brother would have us not discuss such things At times, I feel that we are the last in the world So, tell me- if this paper is the last in the world, have we written something significant? I've no doubt the world will see The mistakes of society Time then, will bring forth a new renaissance, with us as creators And they, as the readers of some disconnected thoughts Written at a time when the end of a page was a good stopping point for poetry, but not for the limit of government infringement on personal freedom.
My friend and I passed a paper back and forth across a table at Rumbi Island Grill; we each wrote three lines at a time and only let the other person see the last line. This is the poem that came out of it.