Have a Nice Day

Have a Nice Day

There's dilemma in their refrain
problems to solve on the train
tracks from the needle marks
to a place in the park
when they're stuck in the dark
flowin' and goin' to and from
the jails of those who broke the rules
of the workers and the fools
gold they invested in
as they rode away on their Schwinn
in the wind from a hurricane
like a spinning weather vane
listening to the same apple pie lies
from the politicians they despise
to the wretched fear seen in hate's eyes
of the poor and institutionalized
with all that held them down
in the middle of a square
called, "I don't care"
they'll stand idly by
with a tear in their eye
from being cannibalized
by those on the go
and those in the know
with their inflated egos
and those who just want to grow
toward the radical left
or go to the light
of the radical right
in a room full of doctors
and lawyers and twisted voyeurs
of you and me
in the land of the free
and boast of their worldly authority
by letter of the law
in the depths they saw
what the earth was becoming
and who was that humming?
to the sound of the lunatic's mind
from behind closed doors
and hardwood floors
in the hallowed halls of the university
earning iron clad degrees
to commit felonies in an undetected run
of a man with a gun and someone's daughter
but try as he could
he should have bought her
a diamond ring and some bling
in the name of the King
Bush and his phoney baloney story
of the battle for oil and glory
so those who get rich quick
can feel the itch
when someone questions the name
of their infection
and who is to blame
for the destructive hurricane
in the Gulf of Mexico
never seeing the aide they need
or feel the greed
or know the evil seed
of those who wield the power
in their deepest darkest hour
of despair of those incarcerated
in a world gone insane
with the ruling classes
and high priced gasses
and leaving behind the poverty
the victims of political robbery
and the half assed peddlers of snobbery
that just can't agree
on what to buy next
or who wrote the text
and who was it for
not the twenty dollar whore
who walks the street
with nothing to eat
wearing alligators on her feet
and high end clothes
shoving cocaine up her nose
the true tortured souls
beaten with a rubber hose
or a hostage with his head lopped off
in a society numb that doesn't care or cough
up the festering filth that infects us all
or will even call
for an end to the madness
and infinite sadness
that falls on the writhing masses
but the power brokers kiss our asses
as long as we pay their way
and say,"Have a Nice Day"

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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