fa la di da

Go on, then:
Explain to me, again,
You funny sucker,
How there isn’t any money.
I’m prepared to be amused…
Do tell that joke about the ruse
Wrapped in a riddle.
Go on: fiddle me that tune
That goes “impugn fa la di da”
And sing your moxie philodoxy
Of whose means you’re keen
To live within – I need a grin –
Please minstrel up that thing
Where Big Society’s anxieties
Are values and variety –
I’ll try to do the Robot
As you pluck the tired strings.

then there’s money

Well, there’s money
then there’s money, Honey –
plentiful
and spent it all –
It’s funny, really, Darling,
how it readily exchanges
where the sun don’t even shine
– and yet it burns away alarming –
Whereas, further down the line,
it’s hard to earn for love or time
but we’ve got coffers full
for cock and bull:
there’s cash to splash on proxy agents,
business trips for entertainment,
decadent engagements
with a myriad of lobbyists.
We’ve subsidies for corporatists
and Public Service hobbyists;
there’s lashings for a futile folly;
empty democratic jollies;
funds for training frenemies
and spying arbitrarily on each
and any citizen.
And war, we can afford,
of course
but, then,
there’s always funds for killing
in the kleptocratic willing
– economic or blood-spilling –
Just there isn’t any money
for the People, any more.