Sour Cream
It’s said that cream rises to the top;
oh how I wish it were true;
world leadership needs a new crop;
Lord, won’t you come through.
The so-called cream has turned sour;
only fools desire to reign;
prospects grow worse by the hour;
cream has gone down the drain.
We’re told to smile and move on;
there’s nothing that we can do;
tyranny shall become the new dawn;
before all despots are through.
Although we’re promised a choice;
sovereignty no longer exists;
we’re only given a vacuous voice;
as the march of tyranny persists.
Elections have become a mere circus;
in order to satisfy the masses;
public servants propose to serve us;
garbage swiming in molasses.
So called leaders are puppets on a string;
with only self interests infused;
they’re only permitted to dance and sing;
by billionare potentates, used.
Soon; all lives will have strings attached;
despots will tell us what we must do;
by the potentates, all free will, snatched;
as we have become their puppets, too.
Monty 8/9/24. # 2,262