The Budget is failing us.

Safety Last was not just a Harold Lloyd
movie, the clock stuck on political corruption
past twelve;

Harold reaching the summit impossibly
with one arm raised.

We promise to be gods as we rise
to the top, spend millions on ourselves,
“Vote For Me,” as our sidewalks
crack, and wear and breakdown—

Another day in the city, elections
coming up again.

Should we let a child vote, or send them
to the kids’ table to write graffiti and
join the local gangs?

I was ready by eight, Reagan against
Carter—pass me the ball, I know
what I like and want, I wanna vote,
I wanna help, let me in, let me in
Let me in, Please!

I want to begin!

By eighteen I’m drinking alcohol—burning
out on it, actually, middle finger
in the air, you could have
had me when I cared,

But missed me.

How many kids are we missing?

How many immigrants want to help,
but we make citizenship a matter of
place and time instead of Merit!

Take and pass a test!! You want to be
a part of and help our country, STEP UP!!

Age? Country of Origin?

Who cares about that, if a willing helpful
hand wants in to help?

Corrupt since Adam and Eve? Genocide
in the Philippines? World War I propaganda
and censorship of anti-war voices?

Killing Kennedy, covering up facts,
sitting on evidence—claiming “National
Security,” Big Brother?

Buying your way to political seats, getting
so fat you cannot even SEE my sidewalk.

When was the last time you huffed it on
our pavement, sans-tinted glass and
SUV’s, Mr. President down to City
Councils and Mayors, go fish with your
inflated salaries and dishonest campaign

the ultimate loser, the tax payer—paying
for every corrupt act.

Then the police come and arrest the wrong
hack, because a neighborhood rose in
one voice against goodness, truth and law.

Wide is the path to Destruction, and many are on
it. Lying makes you average, Truth at risk
of rocking boats and padded cells, prepared
for you the moment the silver-spoon fed mayor
decides to skimp on infrastructure and Safety.

He spends on “Health” and Public Zoos, goes to
Dodger games, takes pictures with the famous.

The sirens and helicopters roar without a war,
as we finally figure out that shooting people
in the torso is not self-defense.

God Bless us back to the 10 commandments,
the Tao Te Ching.

Never bear false witness, number
nine on God’s list, Heaven
still on the line—

We can win this thing!