In suits they trot
Italian’s
Caraceni and HK’s Ascot
With loud
guffaws and the occasional snort
At times on
high as though on pot
Oh who are
they these snobbish smattering
Nonsensical
talk and gibberish chattering
At a place most
August yet they’re buffoon’ing
Oh who they
are, from whence their originating
Eloquent advocate
or puppet squealer
Effective
pleader or frothing titular
We know this
naught; nor do we bother
They’re so
aloft, mostly aloof, often cavalier
Our voice
they supposedly represent
Of publics interests,
in distinct liberty and mutual consent
Transcending
breed, beliefs, tracts and accent
Our hopes in
them, so naïf so fervent
So, who are
these callous few?
Do they not
hear, have they no view
In patience stretched,
of anger brew
Who are
these, so screwed up their worldly purview?
Too damn
late, things’ now gone askew
Just
desserts for choices miscue?
In suits
they trot
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