Bus drivers and plumbers
don’t start the wars
The nurse or school teacher
too busy inured
What’s common among us
with tasks to withstand
The elected entitled
our blood on their hands
Without a real job
and whose terms don’t expire
They poison the well
with aggrandizements dire
To them it’s a game
that they cannot lose
Their voters just pawns
in a continual ruse
But one day the reaper
with sickle in hand
Will come to reclaim
what’s stolen bedamned
And the serfs will rise up
in an infamous rage
The despots left burning
—their ashes in shame
(Radnor Pennsylvania: June, 2023)
