Hypocrisy: A poem 

If Solomon the wise were alive today, 

would injustice be the price to pay? 

Our temples to progress would be built 

not of treachery, at least of remorse or guilt 

The ruins of honour where deceit carved victory 

The archaeologist’s city forgotten in history 

Bedfellows are not strange: crime and impunity 

Wrongdoings don’t even come with an apology 

The milieu of evil has made the worthy unworthy 

For the bills are paid by the fields that were bloodied 

Institutions are plenty, but good doesn’t go beyond twenty 

For the duplicity of the rich, even aid comes handy 

War is created for the munitions factory 

They will shout peace with all their hypocrisy 

Askance at the status quo is treated as a quirk 

As the voices of truth are only stuck in the woodwork