Poetry Politics

Ed and Sam

Ed and Sam
By Roknrol

Young Edward was plagued with a moral type puzzle,
For Sam is impulsive and rude.
He reads all your letters (he thinks he knows betters)
He’s really just some skeevy dude.

Old Sam had become a father to some
Illegitimate kids ‘long the way.
No mom to be had they all listened to dad
the Fourth they’d just whittle away.

Frankie was first (though by far not worst)
Then came Charles and l’il Nancy Sue.
They had well-defined jobs which placated the mobs
While big number Four remained true.

Frankie worked closest with his papa Sam,
And Charlie worked mostly abroad.
Nancy Sue stayed at home, acted mostly alone,
while her dear daddy Sam played at God.

He begged of his devious daughter,
“Sit quietly by; just detect.
Whenever you think someone’s making a stink
We can teach them to show some respect.”

“The Fourth,” she cried out in a protest,
“prevents me from listening in!”
“You could find a way,” her dear daddy did say
“or your grant will begin to run thin.”

“Well, listening isn’t the problem,” she reasoned,
“Who sees should be granted with care.”
“No problem,” said Sam “here’s an impartial man
to help make sure requests are kept fair.”

So Nancy Sue started to listen,
But didn’t care what she had heard.
Frankie and Chuck didn’t share in her luck,
and begged her to share every word.

She referred them to Sam’s buddy Fisa,
Who hadn’t signed on for real work.
He gave up the key to our security
While Frankie and Chuck went berserk.

Young Edward (remember our hero?)
Found out about all their misdeeds.
Shocked by their ethics of zero
he begged young Nancy Sue to concede.

With fingers in ears she cried “la la la la”
as young Edward frantically tried,
to determine the best course of action for him
to let people know the Fourth died.

Protection from search and from seizure,
Without warrant or reason or cause.
Is no longer the case with old Sam in the place;
We’re way worser off than we was.

All of your emails and messages,
just waiting for someone to snoop.
Whether selfies with friends, pornographic ends,
Or that picture you sent of your poop.

And phone calls, oh yeah, all that metadata,
He claims that they don’t know a thing.
But Young Edward had found, the more he looked ’round,
that Old Sam had our ass in a sling.

Not only was Sam reading email and such,
and the phone calls he claimed he ignored,
but he was saving it all in a big database,
just waiting for someone who’s bored.

Ed met with reporters in Hong Kong,
on his way to a safer domain.
“Give this to the folks that should hear it,
be careful, it could cause some pain.”

The info got out rather quickly,
Uncle Sam surely wanted Ed dead.
His passport revoked, Ed nearly croaked,
but settled for Russia instead.

John Oliver helped to point out to us,
that Uncle Sam sees all your junk.
That obese drug addict Rush Limbaugh
had the sheer gall to call Edward a punk.

While he’s lost pretty much all his rights now,
fear for life and no Freedom at all.
You should take a brief moment to thank him,
and then you should go heed his call.

Tell these poli-critters to just knock it off.
Xenophobia’s way out of style.
You can’t just divide us between us and them
And say they were bad all the while.

The Internet’s made the world smaller,
We all know that we’re mostly the same.
From the Farm to the Fort and their kangaroo court,
We all know who’s really to blame.

So vote them out now or someday, maybe soon
You’ll have to send children out seeking.
For a small private corner to use as your loo
Just to keep your weird Uncle from peeking.

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