Lies, Lies, Lies Poem by John Allen Richter

Lies, lies, lies....
We live in a box with invisible walls.
With those who sneer at charity balls.
And dance on rose petals.
While peasants starve.

Oh we are so good, we are so tall,
We're sensitive to the pain of all -
And while we complain of how came milk and honey -
We choke on it - for it is god.
And we shall drown in it -
before giving it up.

Oh the plight of the American Indian -
as we robbed and stole his home.
How horrible we are.
Please pass the yams....
Butter? Yes please.

We'll wait until next Columbus Day
to feel his pain again.