This City - a poem

This city is still underwater

lost in a time

of backroom deals and nepotism

tangled in the weeds

of the abandoned lots that litter every block.

Residents can pick their poison

from rising taxes

potty holes

smelly quarters

to stolen cars

corner stores

or hit and runs.

Transparency a ruse

for endless FEMA funds

a celebration of a people’s resilience

hiding nonexistent representation

and many stolen dreams.

Pomp and circumstance

at every turn

delays and lies given

under the fake familiarity

of sympathetic incompetence.

Such a grand design

masks the treacherous callousness

that allowed thousands to die

for systems of bureaucracy and red tape

meant to obfuscate and disguise

the trail of money

lining every pocket.

Jailings and oversight

not a worry for inbreed politicians

waiting on the plunder

from the next disaster.