Hey you, Whitehouse

I tried and I tried.
I wrote emails and letters that spied
the era of a new beginning among
the average citizen, old and young.

I talked to everyone around and online
about health care reform and the spine
of our country and how we had the power.
That we no longer had to cower.

That Obama was different and the change
he spoke of was real and could be sustained.
Changing issues in our political institution
from health care reform to pollution.

I held out hope until I saw the bill begin to bloat.
As the far right screamed and bought the boat
about death panels and socialism that had arisen
and watched how this rhetoric created division.

And how the GOP looked into the sea of people
and decided they needed the power of the church steeple.
That to stir dissent they would pull the abortion card.
How reform was killing grandma and that unborn part

of humanity who has no voice in the matter.
Who are spoken of for obstructionists to gather
as they continue to use abortion as a way of stopping legislation.
Taking the rights of women away that were hard won in this nation.

This bill is propped up with duck tape and glue.
Stuck together with bubble gum and the blood of me and you.
To see this same bullshit being played again
can dishearten the strongest to stop fighting to win.

Because there is no grassroots liberal movement.
Just a bunch of cowards who are not willing to vent
about how health care reform has been stolen away
by the same corporations that financed the campaign.

By the same banks that Americans bailed out.
By Wall Street with their billion dollar bonus snouts.
Pigs to the trough milking the same machine
that was not going to be in the Whitehouse pristine

with the change we were promised and the lies we were fed.
No health care reform bill but more war instead.
My lack of hope saddens my heart this December.
And this was to be the house that hope built, remember.

Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
You’re nearly a good laugh,
Almost a joker,
With your head down in the pig bin,
Saying “Keep on digging.”
Pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find.
When you’re down in the pig mine.
You’re nearly a laugh,
You’re nearly a laugh
But you’re really a cry.

Bus stop rat bag, ha ha charade you are.
You fucked up old hag, ha ha charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You’re nearly a good laugh,
Almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel,
You’re hot stuff with a hatpin,
And good fun with a hand gun.
You’re nearly a laugh,
You’re nearly a laugh
But you’re really a cry.

Hey you, Whitehouse,
Ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse,
Ha ha charade you are
You’re trying to keep our feelings off the street.
You’re nearly a real treat,
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
…..! …..! …..! …..!
You gotta stem the evil tide,
And keep it all on the inside.
Mary you’re nearly a treat,
Mary you’re nearly a treat
But you’re really a cry.

Pink Floyd
Pigs (Three Different Ones)
Animals, 1977