Your Tax Dollars at Work by Chris G.

Posted: February 10, 2010 in Poems
Without the poorly educated thugs and afflicted
mentally incompetent and drug addicted,
who would be left to fill up these prisons?
The local little hick town’s economy is supported
by the rising recidivism rate that’s reported.
Who cares that the more prisons per capita
are right here in Florida?
 
So theoretically, they can’t let us go;
they need us.
Rehabilitation’s a joke;
you see this,
but they can even afford to clothe us
and feed us,
so they tax us and bleed us,
steal money from the schools,
economically structure a generation of fools
to lock ’em up and throw away the key
just like a farmer when he’s harvesting the wheat.
And then there’s the parole board,
collectively on the whole,
who still receives a paycheck
when there’s no such thing as parole.
 
I put a scratch on the wall
for every Christmas missed
while a broke Tallahassee
begs for stimulus with Crist.
For every head another dollar
is counted to the bounty.
The prison’s slap full
and they’re still coming from the county.
Now this warehouse of men is due to fold,
lit to pop whie they loose control.
We’re just people in here
and some of us even have souls,
but don’t get me started
cause I’m almost on a roll.
 
The hypocrites are so worried about the terrorist Arab muslims
who got it made in Guantanamo
while we suffer in these dungeons
right here in America.
Our own citizens are wearing it
cruel and unusually,
but you’re not even hearing it?
Mathmatical conclusions in a world gone asunder.
Statistically speaking, I’m nothing but a number.
Not a name, not a face,
just another gone to waste,
but I’m human just like you.
Could you make it in this place?
How about a taste?
And I’m not talking about the food
or even how the make it.
No, if it was you,
I don’t think you could take it.
But that’s okay, you’re not a criminal.
You just pay the taxes for it,
So go about you way
and hope you can ignore it.
 
   by Chris G.
 

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