Inspector General [part 1 of my political trilogy]
An original poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro
Consider reading along to my Spoken Verse Performance.
VERSE 1
Imagine a world where the suspects,
Of wrong doing must first give their permission.
Before oversight occurs. The effect,
Would be like requiring admission.
VERSE 2
Police have what's called Internal Affairs.
They strive to see that misdeeds are twarted.
Regarded by their peers as a bunch of squares,
But now they pray screw ups aren't reported.
VERSE 3
Might some feel their kind faces extinction,
Based on the government's experience?
Falling from a place of great distinction.
When those focused on become furious.
CHORUS #1
Inspector General!
Who do you think you are?!?
Inspector General!
Squaring off against a czar!?!
From the moment you blundered,
Your employment days were numbered.
Mr. Inspector General
BRIDGE
You have to assume, that in Hollywood,
A screenwriter's chances improve highly.
If they embrace the current "right and wrong".
Execs are now thinking it might be good,
That a story line's about an IG,
Who learns of malfeasance, but plays along.
VERSE 4
To Trump employees, better act with restraint,
When told: "While you're here, why don't you mow my lawn."
Consider that if you file a complaint,
The Inspector General might be gone.
VERSE 5
Cause pink slips are handed out briskly,
They count four since COVID-19 started.
While you'd think retaliation would be risky.
Old Rush Limbaugh doesn't care who departed.
CHORUS #2
Inspector General!
Who do you think you are?!?
Inspector General!
Squaring off against a czar!?!
From the moment you blundered,
Your employment days were numbered.
What was experienced by you,
Let's me stretch the rhyme with 'umbered'.
Definition: Given a brownish hue.
Since your office has been shit upon.
The Office of the Inspector General.
The End
Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2020. All rights reserved.