I took a trip to buy some eggs today.
I hear the price of eggs put Hate in play.
The promises of “Cheaper!” filled the air.
So loud that no one cared if lies are fair.
The eggs were not at all a cheaper buy.
In fact, the price is headed toward the sky.
But that’s okay because at least we’re free
To be like Putin tells us all to be.
As all our allies, all our friends depart.
The air begins to reek of rancid fart.
We’re told to care about ourselves it seems.
Our solemn promises were merely dreams.
Instead a dank and Musky stench so foul,
It must have come from Satin’s belching bowel.
An odor permeates the land and sea.
The stink of sweat and swill — false sanctity.
As cowards “lead” who never fought a fight.
Betray at every turn to wrong a right.
Where once grew trees that perfumed healthy breeze
A parking lot and chopping plot. Disease.
Behind the teeny golden glove of hate,
The puppet strings of puke and Putinate.
Beneath the empty words, the lies, the screams.
I hear the hushing rushing of the streams.
The air and water sing their song of love.
A secret sauce dissolves an iron glove.
We’ll think a link and find a way to join
With those whose highest goal is not mere coin.
For cancer always loses in the end.
The raging bull can’t see beyond the bend.
The dance of life cannot be stilled for long.
The Evil falters, fails when faced with Strong.
The Age of Darkness cannot dwell and last.
The growers and the pickers holding fast;
Explorers and the builders and the rest;
The singers, dancers, counters—All are blessed.
Symphonic teaming all across the land.
A polyphonic omni-chromic band
Will drown the clang and clatter of the brats
Who scream without rhythm, reason, or rhyme.
Their song of “ME!” and “Gimme!” is no song at all.
No act they take can ever make them tall.
Be gone! Crawl back into the Void of Hell.
The people hear the symphony, the knell.
That noise you bang upon your broken drum?
The people see it’s humdrum, glum, and dumb.
We sing to each and organize each note.
We work Together for the Good, not Gloat.
The people seek their choral symphony;
Forgo the rancid raunch cacophony.
The plumber, builder, doctor, driver, aide;
Accountant, artist, seller, teller, maid.
The people want to work to make life good.
Contributors through history who could
Made our life better; who would not do such?
The greedy few cannot begin to touch.
Cooperation is our human gift.
Our speech is there to bridge the natural rift
Of experts taught to see from different views.
We cannot let the greedy slant the news.
Some day, some year, some time that’s yet to be:
We’ll feel the power of humanity.
Each working, playing, helping, each to be.
A World of Worth, of Love, and Dignity.
——————-
petersironwood 
Pingback: Interview with Putrid’s DOG-E | petersironwood
Pingback: E-Fishiness Comes to Mass General Hospital | petersironwood
Pingback: But, Mommy! I had a Reason! | petersironwood
Pingback: Happy New Year, 2026; Reviewing 2025 | petersironwood
Pingback: Tools of Thought: Problem Finding | petersironwood