.our Ladies Of The Chamber - Poem by Cretan Maineiac
“I’m a survivor, ” sez the
AWAP, each time she tells her Ex-Wife’s
Tale besmirching miscegenation worse than
KKK propaganda, drowning unwanted children in self-serving tears, &
- a definition of family based on lobby dollars, &
-opening private books to the public while
-closing public books to all.
“I’m looking out for The
Little Guy, ” claims
non-trad Margaret, securing a
Raise for lawmakers as
your street cracks &
crumbles, smoldering, refitting suits in the
Crazy biz as clients
empties toward tobacco jizya.
“I’m here to finish business, ” Ms.
Deb crowed, &
Voted away charter schools, looking into
Taxing DeLorme & Rand McNally for
each crag mapped
along Maine’s salty jagged coast. “Me,
too! ” chirps craven Margaret, alternatively
pimping Peter to
diversely pay for Paul, taking hellish human sacrifice under
advisement—yessah—for gold-plating the State House & endowing
retirement. Vote early, vote often, trade your job so they can keep theirs, & hail
them, hear them, tho listening be a chore,
our ladies of the chamber, hear ye, hear them whore.
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