Democracy has nothing left to do, <br />From high in soaring towers of plate glass, <br />Concealed by rebar steel and concrete block, <br />Secured aloft in fortresses of finance; <br />And looming silently, so to strike awe <br />In all the beating hearts of passersby, <br />Of workers and pedestrians who fear, <br />And citizens who cower under pyres; <br />And so to thank, just who it is up there, <br />That scrapes the skies of dark financial Gods, <br />Just who it is that shakes the hand that beats us, <br />Democracy has nothing left to do: <br />But bear the stick and carrot overhead, <br />And cheer who gets to eat, or turn up dead... <br /> <br />-January,9 2006<br /><br />David Zvekic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/font-color-880000-the-invisible-hand-font/
