DON CORLEONE

 

From the Queens to Flatbush,

Like winds that blow and never hush!

 

And all that’s left cannot be undone –

We all would hide, but there is nowhere to run.

 

All the stories and lies that people have told,

As we wait for the next trumpet to blow!

 

In the corridors of Trump Tower comes a breeze,

The winds howl, but who can anyone please?

 

Our Forefathers voices crying from the ground,

They cry for truth, but it’s nowhere to be found!

 

Truth! O Truth! It pounds upon the door!

But it seems it has died forevermore…

 

Then there is music – it seems to fill the air –

Then a voice cries out, “Who is there?”

 

I am “Don Corleone” the mafia king!

Then in his New York brogue he begins to sing.

 

He holds his head up high and faces the sun,

Then says, you want truth, wait until I’m done!

 

Epaphroditus© April 15, 2018