Burroughs Business Machines [Today's News Poem, March 10. 2010]
With drugs, the wealthy take their pick:
The doctors scrum to fill demand.
With poorer people, hurt and sick,
The government is at command.
A junkie's made inside a lab.
The warriors of silk conspire
Around the polished oaken slabs
To set an addict's thirst on fire.
They bill for what they don't prescribe,
Withholding drugs from those in pain.
And since they've cash enough to bribe
The government, complaint's in vain.
Said Burroughs: opium's control.
A poppy chains an addict's meat.
Its dealer's like police patrols
Inside a mind that knows defeat.
To arms of thugs to help you cope!
To penury if not a jail.
Monopolists who trade in dope
All know their trade will elsewise fail
In games where competition thrives.
A government sets foes to knives,
Denies relief from pain and drives
The wracked to jail. The rest survive—
Obedient to save their lives.
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Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Posted by Khakjaan Wessington at 7:52 PM