by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
a rapid descent
geologically slow
the evil intent
everybody must know
people crushed by the climb
of the power of doom
blood the trickles on down
in economic boom
if we did own the poor
and the children
unborn
and the mentally ill
and the older forlorn
ought we use them to make
the more wealthy more rich
elevate price of oil
crippled leave in a ditch
if we care for ourselves
only evil survives
if we do for the rist
Your promised peace arrives
Love, take over our plans
end the selfish abuse
bring Your grace to our land
we are just too obtuse