Control Freaks [poem]

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This urge to control;
from whence does it come?
A question banal, you may say.
But as I go about my business
in a thousand different ways

I see:

tinpot hitlers
jackboot bloodsuckers
stuffed shirts
slave drivers
(Dangerous Fuckers).
(they’re all Smart-Assed Fakers).
Satraps and tyrants
nabobs and popes
fatcats and bigwigs
shoved down your throat.
Shoguns and showboaters
stealing the limelights
playing the wrong note
(they come in All Sizes).

My question again:
From where do they come –
these shiny caricatures
spoiling your fun?

(If you want to discover
the truth of a matter
always go back
to the foot of the ladder
[the rungs of which run
through our lives like a stream
a leitmotif working
its musical theme]).

Powerless children –
unless they mature –
grow up to be Caesars
of this I am sure.


© 2011, Alan Morrison

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