Wednesday, July 12, 2017
I rediscovered some poems I'd kind of forgotten had gotten published.
The two topical limericks were printed in City in the July 24-30, 2002, edition:
The truth about white collar crime
is offenders will rarely do time.
They're in bed, you see,
with the powers that be,
who'd turn a blind eye for a dime.
Please don't call them corporate crooks
because it is not as it looks.
After working each deal,
it's hunger they'd feel,
and that is why they cooked the books.
Pax et bonum