Progressive Poetry: ‘Untitled (Austerity)’

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It’s killing you

It’s killing me

All our families

Why can’t you see

That our money

Is made from trees

With no accountability

It has no value, you see

Except by use of what we need

Services for you and me

Like a Federal Job Guarantee

Would fill our lives with clarity

Doctors, farmers, charities

People who pave our streets

Jobs to help America, land of the free

So we stop worrying about our needs

Money is free

When we create our own currency

The inability to believe

quite simply

That we can’t go broke

Just shows the treachery

Our Congress uses

To manipulate our society

Because of our lack of lucidity

Our tenacity to be happy

Has turned into vanity

Instead of unity

It’s when we use that free currency

For the benefit

Of the people in need

That our society

In all its diversity

Becomes what we dreamt it could be

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