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in an unstable, dangerous world

At times their noise and raucous din
The screeching of their violin
The shrill incessant howl of rage
That seems to leap off every page
The Clinton press corps, loyal hacks
All bought-and-paid for maniacs
In sycophantic, fawning mobs
Prostrate their spineless jelly blobs
Before their Ice Queen, Liar-and-thief
Manipulative kickback chief.

At times I find I close my gate
I lock the windows, bar the door
And quietly, I cogitate
and fret, and fear, and pace the floor.
In Washington, the honest face
Was once so much more commonplace
The Founding Fathers saw her like
A hustler so un-statesmanlike
They tried to set in place a dream
A system we could all esteem
But Clinton Inc and her cabal
Promote a different rationale
They lie, and cheat, and when caught out
They angrily just braze it out.

The naked greed and love of wealth
That hardly bothers much with stealth
Outrageous 'speaking fees'  galore
In private rooms as an encore
Are proof abundant of the stench
That wafts around that lying wench.

At times I find I close my gate
I lock the windows, bar the door
And quietly, I cogitate
and fret, and fear, and pace the floor.

Francis Meyrick