That makes me feel better, a way to do more
Writing my thoughts, and not being a whore
To the military-industrial government
That keeps us ignorant and downward bent
Our heads in the dirt and our cheeks spread wide
Letting the IRS stick its arm inside
Take all our money and bleed us dry
Things are getting worse and you wonder why
Takes more than working to pay the bills
Send the kids to college, and buy a few frills
Do you drive a BMW and call yourself rich
Yet beat your wife and scream at her, "bitch"?
Or better still, do you rape your child
Then go to church and all the while
Your friends pat your back and think you're good
But little do they know you got a heart of wood
Or do you buy in to that New Age look
Grow your own sprouts and follow the Good Book
But when it comes to the homeless, you turn away
You don't harm others, why should you pay
To heal all the evils that society has wrought
Or do anything about our leaders being bought
It's gotten real ugly this world we're in
The way we treat it is really a sin
I want to end this poem with a hope
That we'll band together and learn to cope
With all the issues that happen these days
It's time to hold hands, we gotta change our ways

John B.Caddell
January 1,1992