A thought.it reads:
They tell the world what it wants to hear
Speaking cheap of what remains quite dear
A world without borders! For them it seems
That walls are old, or a bit oppressive --
The world cheers louder, it downright screams
The world is rarely this expressive--!
Meanwhile, the dupes continue to awake
But not yet do a noise they make --
What would you say, that the 'people' said
They'd made one false move too many?
What sort of things do they allow the dead
To say - that might be heard by any?
The earth will be consumed, but not by fire
Not yet for our Lord's all-fulsome ire
But by flies, by roaches, by locust, by worms
While the doddering old nod sleepily
Gulliver in his bonds still squirms
And the poets continue quite weepily--
Of the end of a world, a body dissolves
Though the planet itself quite duly revolves
Unlikely a sea, whose tremendous ripple
Might cover the lands we hold so dear
But instead a mountain of useless kipple--
They tell the world what it wants to hear.