Poetry by Tim Windisch

Players


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Players

Players in their mansions using people as stantions

Pawns to move about on their cryptocurrency chessboard

Blocking bridges in the land of maples, hold up all the needed staples

While the insolence slowly ruptures from us all as we are gored

Wasn’t my crazy machination, but I sat down and got the vaccination

Much the same as when I lined up with my classmates to knock out polio

No clue what was in it, shit I was maybe ten, now nearly sixty I feel the same again

I trust in science, believe in God, love my neighbor but I wear a mask everywhere I go

Can’t afford to do too much anyway, except marvel at the things I hear politicians say

Stumbling over themselves as more facts come to light about their own indiscretions

Connections to those power players, proof it was all Hollywood and there were no dragon slayers

We weren’t saved from anything when you closed the door, how about an anonymous confession?

Players run the world from high atop manmade thrones

Traffic buildup as they build new ones follow the traffic cones

Players don’t mind making you wait while they count up every dollar

Red and blue divides galvanized, by those who provide good old blue collar

Players fed them everything to fatten up their mind, just to get that vote

Now they tell it all, plea deal to get off, read the book and choke as they gloat

Players

Tim Windisch

2/15/2022

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Poetry by Tim WindischBy Tim Windisch