Our Antipodean See Saw
you talk about things, gobbledygook
concept versus reality, you are painting.
and truth remains still after all the ramblings
today the rain fell down, tumbling
and tomorrow it is slated to as well
the weather and trees will act on, perpetual
truth is, all this stuff; spinning spun,
speculation, stimulus--it's unnatural
and smacks at nature, absolutely mechanical
this deus ex machina! and yet
no God or gods have contrived
to send a charriot and supplant me and safety
i tend to the lean through the lean times
towards the opinton that inflation deflation and economy
are artifice. Where really are the means?
we have a global market of paper,
printed bills, all illegitimate children.
long gone is that father bullion backing, long spent.
blind prophets and stinky bums with signs
pantomime (for all we listen to them) hope, osmosis
asking that the artifice will end without homicide
if uncheck'd, if let run amok till finished,
self balance will be bought in expenses of pain
coin dolled out in anguish and famine, swolen bellies.
still, many spew out, prattle on
noxious notions versus solid brass tacks
but the truth remains, counterbalanced and biding
opposite! our crazy shift from
hard work, that old American optimism
lets fight delusions of entitlement, and "get it now"
Now, lest God or the gods get ideas
and balk at the way my luxury smacks
in the face of true poverty, that terrible spectre
I do hope that the fabrication of our balancing act
can shake it up enough for people to pull together
work hard, refuse the welfare check, earn sweaty bread
For that flaming chariot is not coming
not in a stimulus check, nor in a bailout
instead, this nation must arise by its own bootstraps
self motivated, self medicated
an ear given to the mumblings of a blind prophet
and the other ringing from the song of hammer and forge