THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT

The government in Venezuela is now requiring besieged consumers to submit to fingerprinting when buying goods.

THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT
(To the tune of, “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

There is no butter
And still the fools wait
Out in the gutter
The bread’s gone by eight
Peer through shop windows at bare shelves they hate
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Am I a hoarder?
The state wants no greed
Write down my order
For coffee indeed
Wait in that line, what they have I don’t need
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Who will reform our economy?
What comedy.
Some joke, we’re broke.

If you want dollars, you’d need your own mint
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

They say it’s smugglers.
Who make the goods rare
But they’re like jugglers.
Ten pins in the air.
Nobody hears them above the despair.
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

As merchants leave they board up the shops.
Farms grow no crops.
Oil’s sweet, to eat?

No toilet paper, don’t they get the hint?
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

 

AC-CENT-TCHU-ATE* THE NEGATIVE

AC-CENT-TCHU-ATE* THE NEGATIVE
(To tune of ‘Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive,” by Harold Arlen & Johnny Mercer (1944))

Intro

To get elected in the U.S.A.
You needn’t be smart. You just need to pay.
And, here’s how to win, so I’m told the experts say.

Verses

You’ve got to, Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the negative.
Do circumvent the positive.
And don’t mention what they need to live.
Cause facts never matter anyway.

You’ve got to say what the polls have ordered up.
The truth, well, that we’ll keep boarded up.
Cause dollars is what decides the vote.
It’s over before Election Day.

*Except for this original Johnny Mercer phrase, lyric ©. 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire.
All rights reserved.

 

CIVILIZED WAR: A POEM

CIVILIZED WAR: A POEM  

We’ve not become so civilized as to end war:
But we’ve become too civilized to win war.
We decry the necessary brutality that war summons
taking pains to avert another Dresden,
While our enemies lop off heads;
and, laugh at our Geneva Convention vanity,
from urban redoubts behind civilian kryptonite.

They are not hypocrites like us,
who pretend that war has rules,
lest we not feel good about ourselves.
Perhaps it is that the wars we have
chosen to fight of late, are not of survival.
Perhaps they have been mechanisms
of greed to oil the economic wheels.

Perhaps we would recover the strength of will
to see war clearly, if the threat were existential.
Perhaps we would then deploy at war
the fullest, most brutal measure of our power
adhering only to the one honest rule of war,
should we be dragged into its madness –
that immoral slaughterhouse –
“Win by whatever device necessary.”

Knowing that afterwards, it is the victors
who will order rules, the vanquished
will be charged to have violated.

© 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

LORD HELP US IF WE’RE LEFT WITH SCOTT

LORD HELP US IF WE’RE LEFT WITH SCOTT
(To tune of, “The Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

Rick Scott’s a classic, a governor sublime.
Head of a company that committed a crime.
Rejected fed funds, but welcomes the slime.
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott

He took the Fifth” in that Medicare bust.
Sounds like a bag of hot air, a big gust.
Looks like a car salesman no one should trust.
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott.

Says “Reelect me, oh won’t you please.”
“Pardon the sleaze.”
He hopes, we’re dopes.

He bought the State House, are we dumb or what?
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott.

He helps big business, the poor sink or swim.
That’s why big business gives big bucks to him.
And Medicaid healthcare prospects look grim.
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott

Another term of short-changing health.
Building his wealth.
We’re high, and dry.

Always seen smiling like he’s high on pot.
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott

Though Charlie Christ won’t make you rejoice.
Oh, what a choice.
Our curse:  Who’s worse?

Christ is no hero, but a thief he is not.
Lord help us if we’re left with Scott.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved