Who am I to judge these potbellied self -serving creatures?

he drools with disgust at himself, amazed at his daring

constantly changing football teams at whim

trading country for his stomach,

stomach so big steadily leaning to kiss hell’s door

who am I t judge really?

more times my aging eyes have watched, my lips sealed with the kiss of kickbacks

often chastised by my conscience, but I swat the persistent fly

stuffing my ears from the moans of the hungry and sick

sealing my eyes tight against the homeless and bereaved

I have done my duty to myself after all

so who am I to judge really?

These two-faced comrades of mine

who sell country for love of self and say for love of country

and we all say ‘amen’ ‘oyee’ cheering them on urging them to rob us even more?

I refuse to vote after all what difference will it make?  I make excuses it’s all I can do

who am I to judge? nobody’