Tuesday, December 13, 2011

The Wolves of Ellis

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses,
Yearning to breathe free.

I will put these fine folks
In dark morasses,
In captivity.

Here, let me help you.
Your kids need free passes,
Some compassion, see?

     A Land of the Free
     With victim peddlers
     And grievance mongers
     Salivating openly.
     Oh the woe of it all.


Anna said...

Enjoyed the poems will look again soon for some more.

W.B. Picklesworth said...

Thank you Anna. I enjoy writing them.