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America, May I Have a Word About Taxes?

I’m taxed by the topic of taxes and folks

acting like it’s the axis on which all talk

must spin, but spin is the key word because

rhetoric rules the day and I rue the rhetoric

used to sway every Tom, Dick, and Harry’s hot

take on taxes because even the “leftist” media uses

words like “tax relief” and “tax cuts” that

leave the masses spun into thinking that

taxes are evil, that we as a nation need saving

from our national savings but that doesn’t

make any sense because without cents we

can’t fix the infrastructure that’s stricken

and ruptured, broken by decades of disinvestment

and resentment directed toward some

imaginary citizens of otherness when our

grandpas said they were all brothers in

arms back when we agreed that Nazis

were punching bags with simpletons’

xenophobias. (Live & let live, leave me alone, yes?)

What we need is relief from

the cuts, squeezing blood from a stone is nuts

in the wealthiest country in the entire

history of the human species—America

leaves me speechless, more worried

about its tax returns than practicing

what it preaches—we are a country with

separation of church and state,

but so often we insist its Christian

while also soliciting to get ours, asserting that

Christ rules everything around me while

we & Wu know what the C in CREAM really stands

for, and people, Christ was poor—he kicked over

the money changers’ tables not because the

money itself was evil but because

greed only sees its navel—the sea that

Jesus walked on was raising all boats

not just the captain’s yacht, it’s rotten

to think one boat is superior when

they all float, how you get across the river is up to you,

I mean, congratulations on your kingly golden

dinghy but the janitor’s raft is full of singing

and you can take only one of those with you

after crossing the River Styx.

Taxes are not your burden to bear. With only

a modicum of awareness you have to admit

that taxes are fair. You couldn’t “get yours” without

me and the masses—we’re in this together, you flatulent

asses. There’s no way for you to exist as an island. John

Donne nailed that 394 years ago. No man can do

any of it alone. Our taxes can help both

you & me. We’re in this together, persisting & free.





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