Mary Margaret Park Ellison Et. al.

Jaded in glory

Now what can I say?

I followed the rules

Yet fought the main fray


While lawmakers haggled

I worked through and through

I slaved, did without despite skeleton crews

And what might I find delayed gratification did bring?


A sleigh full of coal to support others bling

And now I see clearer, although blind my eyes grow

My vision is clouded by the CRT’s glow

And still ‘they ‘ pursue me as if I were king


Past generals have come to lay waste to the world

And as I was working I saw their flags unfurled

Only to stop, and say ‘HALT’ , or we’ll die

They’re watching and waiting with eye in the sky


No privacy acts and no manners to boot

They’re hell bent on money, and rapage and loot

They care not for law or for truth or for justice

They live for our ‘skins’ cloaked in pockets of eustice


The truth that we seek strikes a terrible ‘urn’

In death we’re forsaken, for they continue to earn

They pillage and profit, while endearing themselves

They think they’re so clever, with “our” truths on their shelves


Perhaps we are broken, our chalice doth spill

But that which is spoken sinks even the ‘shill’

And so they boast proudly, as we take our last breaths

They flatten our heads at their ‘mothers’ behest


To sell, or to bid, is all so divine

for fools gold is ‘skinny’, fruitless no time

so in ‘death’ do we part, knowing at least

the promise of minors no longer replete


with another man’s estate, or wealth as he calls it

I call him a traiter, a devil, a shallot/charlot

A ‘box-headed’ bully, no passion, no truth

But what he can ‘steal’ from our families, our youth


And what would you say, if I told you a story

That leaped large from printed word

No ‘holes’ barred, no tele’?

Just truth and honesty, the thorns of said crown


Take your whiskey, your cognac, your gluttony, your rounds

Add up your score, sit self-satisfied and smug

But when the world ends, will you simply shrug?

And revel in your winnings while you sink into blackness?


I have grown weary, this fool’s mission, no end

The game has been rigged, a ‘set-up’, no friends

Trapped in a nightmare, no dreamscapes relief

I’d rather be dead than live in this crete’


The ultimate irony, not lost on me no

For I’ll live and strive onward, no suicide note

I’ve gotten this far, and have become far too mean

To give up so easily, to forfeit my dreams