Wednesday, 8 July 2015

Taxi Driver : The false budget of austerity

Osborne's 2million tax dodge taken with a pinch of salt...not likely

The Midas Touch

Why should we fear the faltering hand,
the falling hair, the deafening ear ?
at all the near at hand we stare,
Hooking it to our hearts with eyes
That dare not face the far away,
Nor learn the alphabet of stars,
Nor read their writing on night skies.
The midas touch is each man's trick,
Turning bread to gold-dust in his mouth,
If he, stubborn, will not eat
The unrefined, the star-ground truth
Midas the king, no hamstrung man,
Right royal in the sight of gods,
Could play the fool, want all of gold,
And then retrace his donkey step
And wash all off in river's pool,
And since then Pactolus is stained
With greed and glimmer of gold rule,
God's darling boy, he had his out
A loop hole now denied to man,
And so we drug our minds to truth
And ostrich the divine right plan.
The Midas touch is each man's myth,
The lure that snares him in the end,
That makes him fear his tottering step,
The fore-thought of the failing hand

Anthony Naumann


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