You could say that today's poem follows on from the previous post.
The High And Mighty.
Politicians, high priests of the holy church
of greed,
yours are the crimes from which the many
bleed.
See, vice and corruption make their
stand,
and with brutal tyranny, walk hand
in hand:
your arrogant minds, lost in ambition's
cloud,
oblivious to the suffering of the humble
crowd.
When poverty's knife makes our people
bleed,
your cancerous power is all you ever
feed,
holding high some ego-inflating avaricious
plan
that divides, soon pits man against
man.
Now anguish and war mark your mad
career,
covering our world in the brume of
fear,
then shedding youth's blood by cruel
deceit,
with spurious pomp, lay the guilt at
another's feet.
As we fall heir to a plundered
land,
you tyrannts walk in manner
grand,
what must we do to make you
yield,
to see our children play in a bloodless
field?
Smash and crush your dark nefarious
power,
allowing love and peace to freely
flower.
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