The Fifth Amendment

...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...

MacBlago

When last the great Thane of Chicago
Saw the peach-tree woods approach
Anger stirred in old MacBlago
Bringing words of strong reproach.

“Can’t you see, this Evil Axis
Gathering against me so
Is all a plot to raise your taxes
See, we share a common foe.”

Gazing at the gathering arbor:
“How could they not understand
This tragedy is my Pearl Harbor
Your doom, too, is close at hand.”

“We face this epic fall together
My sweet folk of Illinois
Each of us a victim, ever
Man and woman, girl and boy.

As the woods came, every tree
Our old MacBlago turned in scorn
“They’re not fit to speak to me,
A man, who’s not of woman born.”

A Loss for Words

What say you to these charges?
Have you nothing to declare?
You’ve said before there’s nothing here so time to clear the air.

You’ve told us of your strength
Your courage, how you keep your head.
While everyone is losing theirs and blaming you instead.

You cannot wait to tell your side
You said so to us all.
Yet your defense remains unmounted, why, then, would you stall?

Perhaps you were misquoted
And those tapes, they aren’t legit.
But didn’t your own lawyer call your words “unfortunate?”

A lesser man, with naught to say,
Might try to pull a scam
Refuse to play their little games and call the thing a sham.

A lesser man might cause his State
To waste its time and cash
Pursuing an impeachment, air our bureaucratic trash.

Not you, a man so strong of will
Heroic heart, who will not yield.
A man whose actions more than words his true soul has revealed.

I know why the Caged Bird Sings

A free bird drinks at Rosebud on Rush
And dines like a king at Gibsons place
And has enough sense to keep his mouth shut so he can claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his federal pen
Dreams of flying on Rush Street again
Escaping his cage for the wonders outside so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful tweet
Of things unknown and done discrete
And his tune is heard in the Dirksen halls for the caged bird sings of the guilty

The free bird fears the caged bird’s song
Exposing things that he’s done wrong
And fears that when it’s over birds may soon be trading places.

But a caged bird cannot feel the rush
Inside the cage, his dreams are crushed
To escape his cage for the wonders outside, he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful tweet
Of things unknown and done discrete
And his tune is heard in the Dirksen halls for the caged bird sings of the guilty.

The Old Bullock

Riches I hold in high esteem,
And Love’s what I adore;
And lust of fame, my fondest dream
I crave it all the more:

And, if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, ‘Stop the witch-hunt then and there
give me presidency!’

Yea, as these things all slip my grasp
‘Tis all that I implore:
My frantic voice in one last gasp
cries more and more and more.