taxes

Here's another poem I started months ago. I'd been sewing pieces and rhythms together for forever; I finished a functional draft during Friday professional development. The presenter actually called me out - "...and [blank]'s just working on his taxes poem!"

This is my final, non-slam version, I think - which is silly, because I think forcing myself to cut these pieces to three minutes has only made them better by far.

This thing clocks in at 3:20, 3:30, I think - I opened with it at the March qualifier, and they didn't say anything about time constraints - but I haven't decided where to get line chopping. Input appreciated on things that may fall dead.


taxes
taxes are the price we pay for organized society
for our police and firefighters
for our schools and soldiers
for our prisons and fences
let me spell it out for you
there is no u or s in we
when we must cinch our belts
U.S. us is a foreign idea
one suited for fascists and Swedes
when we must cough up taxes
when we must pay for organized society
we has a silent e
it's not we, but wee, the little people
the U.S. of us cannot possibly handle
the back breaking burden
of Boomers blossoming beyond retirement
see, these higher numbers of tired elderly
made dire this situation, social security's on the fire
it's gotta go
we can not cover unemployment
we can not get you health insurance
we need to pay up for the bullets and bombs
to bailout the banks and grant the Party ranks
tax deductions for training us at burger flipping
paper pushing to pretend like we got some meaning
I think you and I are worth way more
than cigarettes and sad-ass sixpacks to cope with
sick days with no pay and shit jobs with low wages
all this shit makes sense if you just buy the logic, but
I'm too broke to afford these trickle-down economics
if whatever goes up must come down
I wouldn't still be sitting here on the ground
with my tongue out and a bad case of cotton mouth
there's no us here, not in this U.S., not today
not when we pay our taxes
it's just little ol' wee paying for organized society
no taxation without representation, huh?
ain't no tattooed broke ass smokers on Capitol Hill
nobody with bike locks and bus passes in they pockets
nobody there looks like me or you
you wonder why we want better minimum wage
but we're still waitin'
we're looking for healthcare and pensions
but we're still waitin;
we're looking for a break
and wee with this little silent e
we're still waitin
while watchin banks blow our life savings
and get billion dollar bailouts
but I should stop hating
because I'm not gonna do shit
and neither are you
we used to die for what we believed in
we used to die
for the right to speak our minds
for the chance to decide for ourselves
for the simple respect represented
by no taxation without representation
now we're only willing to die for our dreams
if the respawn time is under ten seconds
we hate these taxes and plenty other economic facts
but we're not going to die to fight these things
we're sycophants for the new world kings
what percent of mankind
in the last five hundred years
has had the utter privilege
of complaining about the water pressure?
Servants with copper water buckets
heated over roaring fires
could get ancient emperors a steam bath
I spend ten minutes scratching my ass in the shower
and 600 gallons get pissed down the drain
I drank orange juice this morning
most the world still lives and dies
on less than a dollar a day
I spent a buck thirty nine at Circle K
to get fresh squeezed OJ
from groves thousands of miles away
it was delicious.
It used to take an army and a fleet of ships
to provide the luxury of fresh fruit year-round
it still does
we just don't get to command em personally
we are merely expected to pay the fucking bills
the maintenance costs on sniper scope rifles
filling the gas tank on supersonic aircraft
room and board for the people
who will not get with the program
they keep interrupting our nice neat organized society
it's better to die on your feet than live on your knees
no one ever said that
who had a full refrigerator
I like Lennon, but we are not all going to be happy
most of us are going to be hungry
not us, or we, or wee
we're lucky enough to think all you need is love
and to hate paying our taxes
the price of organized society

happy fucking tax day