The House Of Cards Poem by Frank Bana

Wrecked cars on a concrete roof
Men sing of death and dying
Women dream of coloured hair
While foreign faces claw the glass
Preparing to break in at last
Determined to demand a share

Debt and lenders run the prison
Shamelessly buy politicians
Trading and negotiating
Everything they get their hands on
All accounts belong to them
As the storm rips through the dawn
As the train comes rolling in

Old folks know the words you need
Christmas, Eid and New Year's Eve
They know too well the flood that's coming
Firstborn killings, days of judging
Hear the priceless words they speak
Sit and listen at their feet

All the visions double back
Dreams defenceless from attack
Abandoned on the open plain
Not a tree in sight to climb
Immobilized by all the weight
Of present day and ancient crime

As it turns out, it's now too late
The house of cards comes crashing down
Its credit out of time and date
The self-appointed priests of hate
Are left to tend the fires at night
To keep the packs and prides at bay
For all the so-called good and great
Hanging from the hands of fate.