Carion's CrowA Poem by SR Uriea verbose submission to the status quoCarrion’s Crow Nancy finally explains it all. Her creed merely distance to measure as the crow flies, Though numerous plants seem to grow behind her wall, They require no light to rise, nor artificial seed to be despised. And there’s despicable Rangle’s fancy charge, a Nation’s fainted gall, Forty weeds the speaker needs; she tries, she cries and lies Tangled, dreaming of ivory halls, her glamour; a China doll. So hairy the reeds of gutter’s weeds that mucks and mars the sties, The voters opine corrupt Charlie’s swine, so concealed within his stall. The rock, the knock, a blindside sock right between the eyes, Mock the flock of mindless sheep justly before it dies. Walk it round the clock, lock it beyond the stock, bite into our pies. Seed a putrid weed while you feed the crowded greed in all your houseflies. Hock a poor man’s dock using borrowed broken locks, the falling eagle sighs. Heed the need of deception’s lead; once again old Harry lies. Watch while the c**k of black men's rocks forming the very best that greed buys. Fancy dreams, the rich man’s schemes, and Congress heeds the call, Such high stakes sweet Nancy makes while the others can merely crawl. We can’t see, no not you nor me; well just exactly how can we? We’re not one of these who hold the keys, the banks they freeze Collect more fees, seized to tease, and yet who pays the Star? We’re not of those that chose the foes, or closed our nose When doors slammed closed, still they’re excused from legal bar. Even now here we are, near and far, eyesight none the duller, Last year’s bill, what a rancid, bitter pill with such a nasty color. What the hell, can’t you tell what they aim to steal or sell? Well yeah, so can I, the shade of the skys the same, one to the other. SR Urie
© 2012 SR UrieReviews
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4 Reviews Added on March 1, 2010 Last Updated on May 7, 2012 AuthorSR UrieMSAbout"Be not afeared. The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling intrumments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices That, i.. more..Writing
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