Should I write about America, its ultimate demise
My fear as distant kingdoms fall before my very eyes

The rigid hand of righteousness unwavering and stern
Democracy at any cost, while lesser nations burn

Freedoms flag for all to see, stands proud on foreign soil
While moneyed men on thrones of gold divide the plundered oil

He does not see the inner rot, from avarice and greed
Where money buys decisions based on wealth and not on need

While he dictates to others how to think and what to say
His corridors are filled with touts in corporations’ pay

And cardboard houses freezing men, and people sleep in cars
While just next door the powerful puff Bolivar cigars

Where children run amok with murderous rampage in his schools
And guns are held in great esteem by simple minded fools

Scratch just beneath, and you will see, a windowed house of cards
A rock is flying toward the pane, to splinter into shards

No I won’t write, I won’t remit, for he is still my friend
And I am safe because of him, my home he will defend

I’ll stay my pen, I will not say, all that I hold inside
Integrity repressed, and here I’ll stand right by his side

An Australian