OVER ONE HUNDRED PERCENT?
One morning as I lay sleeping,
Resting on my wide soft bed,
A cruel devil suddenly appeared
Clad in a suit of bright red.
With open briefcase, he smiled,
And with eyes glowing, he said,
"I'm here to get tax dollars
You'll pay before you're dead."
I shrugged and I laughed,
Then I very proudly stated,
"My taxes were long ago paid,
At thirty-seven percent rated."
Then the devil added thirty
Percent more with his evil smile,
To keep state, city, and county
Fiscally solvent for a while.
"Even God asks only ten percent,
And not your sixty-five, in net."
The devil asswered, "Be still!
I've barely started listing yet!"
He proceeded to list more taxes,
And the devil also listed fees,
The devil listed so many my body
Felt chilled in a quick freeze.
Telephone tax to pay for W W I,
A war I thought long over and done,
Blood pressure tax and school tax
And gun tax on my rusted old gun,
Taxes on life, death, my property,
Traffic, treasure, and employment.
All taxes listed would, in effect,
Rob my life's work and enjoyment.
My fear of being without funds
Caused wekened knees and throat dry.
I heard loud buzzing as from a bee,
Devil seemed a winner; I wanted to cry!
Loud buzzing continued unabated,
I threw my hands out through the air,
And killed taxing devil and my dream
By turning off the alarm clock there!
maj 3-11-12
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OVER ONE HUNDRED PERCENT?
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