Carl Rakosi


  In the absolute
  birds always sing
  but in the corporate
  board room
  the men in grey
  are at the wheel
  for the planet.

  Steel nerves,
  the government running
  from a bad public image
  into the aleatory
  with a cocked missile,
  one hand holding
  on to its balls,
  the other pleading
  for a gradual approach.

  The people look out
  for themselves.

  (no change there)