Friday, January 18, 2008

A Poem

The whole of Cook County
Remembers the day
The influx of realtors came
Surging our way.

There were thin ones and fat ones.
The young and the old,
Determined to mark every
Scrap of land "sold."

They came in such numbers,
In waves, like the tides,
Hungry and greedy
And vocal besides.

Never mind we were happy
Without feeling stuck,
The realtors cried "Progress!"
Meaning: "I smell a buck!"

"Let's bulldoze the roads
And plat out the woods,
Cut down lots of trees,
Hey! Who cares if it's good?"

"We're here for the lucre
So we feel that it's fair
To change laws & zoning
And shout down the mayor."

"Downtown needs a facelift."
The city was told.
"Something screwing the view
Like the Cobblestone Cove!"

"We don't like your lifestyle
But don't start to slobber,
'Cause we'll trash, if you let us,
Your cute little harbor."

"Divide and conquer,
Or wear you right out,
We don't care 'cause it's money
That we're all about."

"Like lambs to the slaughter
This town's right for the plucking.
Let our greed be the instrument
Used for the...er...job."

There's been nothing but discord,
Machinations, and worse,
A rash of bad poetry in
Multiple verse.

Always poking and sniffing for
Holes in the hedge,
They're constantly seeking
To insert a new wedge.

I like my sweet town just
The way that it is
And I'm sick of their schemes
And wish they'd take a piss.

But not in our well.
They should take a long hike --
And hurry along --
'Cause I'll be ecstatic the day that they're gone.

Anonymous

No comments: