DEEDS ARE DONE

1

Truth is a flower that buds and blooms,

Is plucked and sold to corporate grooms,

Who marry money that consumes,

Political leaders in secret rooms.

All great men are never great,

Just folk whose egos doth inflate,

From praise of those who can’t relate,

To a better vision of the state,

And bend their thoughts to suit the time,

Controlled and managed by the vine,

Designed and programmed to entwine,

Around the dollar and the dime.

While all society that walks the street,

For those same reasons remain discrete.

2

The horse bolts through the open gate,

Towards an unknown obvious fate,

And the gate unlocked - by mistake?

Provides enduring vain debate.

But it is passed the main event!

It came to be and so it went,

That’s why we now do circumvent,

To dwell on things irrelevant,

To current prospects carefully planned,

Before the action fine and grand,

Sent armies surging across the land,

To wallow in Victory's patriotic hand;

Applause so loud the truth absurd,

Is seldom known and never heard.

© 19 MAY 03 Colin F. Jones