I wish I could feel the outrage this news
Ought to bring like a punch in the nose,
Eyes watering, blood flowing,
Pain sickening . . .
But I’m just a comatose patient
Lying on a gurney after being battered
By tests and probes and meds; like
A liberal after one year of Obama-lala,
One year of watching the great Oz
Pull the rug out from promises of change
We can believe in, like bringing home
The troops, offering healthcare to all . . .
You know the list, and you know the cast,
Chosen from auditions by Summers,
Geithner, and other Bushites—that’s “shite”
The way the Brits say “shit.”
Hey, that vaccine’s a private matter, as the news
Says, and the US worships private deals
The way it bows down to private property
And its owners, who own the government.
So, know your place, Proles: If you want
A flu shot or treatment for a gun shot,
Get on line at the clinic or the ER,
And don’t mess with The Man
At JP Morgan or Goldman Sachs;
He don’ wanna hear your bellyaches.
Hell, he don’ know you exist . . . so when
Your fever hits 104, take an aspirin
And don’t call anyone for help; your life
Ain’t worth a banker’s fart.
George Held has collected many of his New Verse News poems in The News Today.