Pillars

Pillars

The pillars of power
have long been bungling
while middle class workers
have always been struggling.

The rich power brokers,
they do as they please
while the rest of us suffer
the mad money squeeze.

Now every so often
while having their fun
they'll tell us,"Be happy!"
and give us a crumb.

If we complain
and say it's no fun,
they'll come in their Hummers
and hunt us with guns.

The world has gone crazy
and it's not hard to figure,
why the man across town
is pulling the trigger.

The days they are passing
and we're in a rush,
we're the art of an artist,
the strokes of his brush.

The hammers are falling
and driving the nails
while suicide jumpers
are grabbing the rails.

Shotguns are blasting
and banging down town,
the breakfast club's meeting
with tea all around.

The clever magician
will give us a thrill
and so will the doctor
with one little pill.

The third world is starving
and gas prices soar,
just to be living
is becoming a chore.

My neighbor is dressing
with her window shade open,
the lottery's climbing,
"I'll win it, I'm hopin' ! "

All the preachers are praying
and laying awake
while the rich and the greedy
just take and they take.

Sweet little Dorothy's
by the witch's house cryin',
the Tin Man and Scarecrow
are dead or they're dyin'.

The climate's still warming
as oceans still rise
but some are denying,
what they see with their eyes.

We're giving our money
and we're giving our sons
to the rich oil barons,
the sheiks and their guns.

When it's all over
and the fighting is done,
will it be any better
if the rich still have won?

We're lied to from birth,
all the way to the grave,
told what to do
and told to be brave.

Then when they ask us,
we tell them the truth,
we don't know the answers
for we're lied to from youth.

Our owners will tell us,
we better behave
and go to work daily
like good little slaves.

The time we have left
is not worth the living,
if obedient workers
are all the time, giving.

In the back of our mind,
we know what is wrong,
the day is brand new
but never the song.

When we've come to the end,
all broken and battered,
we'll be asking ourselves,
"Has any of it mattered?"

© Copyright 2008 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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