they call me greedy,
taciturn. . .
That I've learned
from my disease
I'd rather not hear.
Most of these sing song smiley faces
beat you to the punch as if they're racing
past you after a ******* badge.
You want a badge?
Well good for you.
Go online and buy one.
They said "spill your guts"
And So you spill out *******.
Thinking that you're making friends,
while I'm hard pressed to believe you
would be believed by anyone worth friending.
You want a badge? Good for you!
I'll make you a deal if you decide to buy one.
I'll pay the cost for the custom laser engraving:
"Sheriff Big ****" in the land
of "No One Gives A ****"
A man of Nottingham
Welcome to the Sindicate
Of utter stupidity
Where all tactile contact
Is inhibited by the puny mind
You are a villain
Of these modern times of change
In primal times
How I would have deranged
Like the animal within me
Tells me so
To take justice into my own hands
Hone it like never before
Then plant it
Into your ridiculous behind
Then maybe some sense will grow
Instead of spewing idle catchphrase
When all wisdom has escaped
From your old diuretic mind
Then maybe you will see
Beyond your need for controversial
Lust for simple power
Over the sheep you fail to herd
To manipulate the many
Your voice must be heard
But its pointless tribulation
When all around you curd
At your arrogance
Now the freshly programmed
Atmosphere turns at the smell
Of your ***** discussion
Riddled with moth *****
Slurring all the ignorance
You can muster in one
Uninformed, uncontemplated instant
Which has roused the warrior
So I may slay this fool
Only to stop the cringe of colleagues
As they put up with your impertinence
How I wish that all intelligence
Did not exist for a time
So that all the grime that lies within me
Can swallow you whole
So you may have a taste of darkness
To counteract the light
The moment you're in the office doing your job and the village clown (The Mayor) Goes off on one. I stayed silent then but the pen trembles as I lay the anger down.
On the ticket for mayor of Sarnia,
Was a sixties bloke, one Wills Rawana;
But the anti-*** vote,
With good conscience can't support,
A politico called Mayor Rawana.
Wills Rawana was a teacher who in fact did run for Sarnia's mayor.
He lost and has since passed away.
The big day was a week away
The streets were being swept
Folding stands erected
Where homeless, last week slept
To make a good impression
The Mayor told one and all
To step up and take note
To answer his loud call
We must show the whole country
We are the best at what we do
We have to show the country
The best side of me and you
This meant weeks before this
The police were out in force
Removing the imperfections
Both on foot and out on horse
A cleansing of the city
Make it nice for all to see
It brings up bitter memories
At least it does to me
It happened back in Europe
A little corporal took command
He did his little cleansing
With his little **** band
The town had hung up bunting
Like the banners in Berlin
being homeless is a problem
It's not where a cleansing should begin
The mayor had plans for plenty
Marching bands and lots of press
He'd only answer pre-set questions
In case it all became a mess
He had to have it perfect
It was his first parade you know,
the streets were freshly steam cleaned
There was nothing he didn't want to show
The displaced folks all huddled
Down in the park, a mile back
Veterans and soldiers
Whites, Hispanics, and some black
Their town was in transition
They were the cities hidden sore
They would never be accepted
Never let inside a door
The Mayor stood on the dais
Waved and smiled as folks went by
It was a town of smoke and mirrors
He showed the world a great big lie
Like the small Austrian corporal
who refused to change and would not bend
The Mayor lied to his country
It was the beginning of his end
— The End —