A Poem

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Nothing Sexy About Dope

No matter how one spins it,

the dope game is dirty, from

every angle, in every state, even internationally.

We pay bad guys, commonly

called “CI’s,” to buy dope off

other bad guys, sometimes their

competition, so we can get paper,

and knock their doors down legally.

The war on drugs, although a

righteous idea, has failed, without

a doubt, for over thirty years.

The cartels have greater resources

than every law enforcement unit combined,

and they profit tens of billions annually,

live like kings with gold-plated rifles,

Siberian Tigers, and mansions built

with walls infused with bundles of cash.

Dead bodies pile up in Mexico, and

that violence seeps into the United States.

Cops, border patrol agents, and other

law enforcement groups take the bait,

get a huge payday to look the other way,

yet they always get caught and tons of

drugs penetrate the US with alarming

magnitude. This stuff consumed me

for six years…but I have the perfect plan.

Choke the borders with money sniffing

canines, intercept every penny of drug money

heading into Mexico, use it to get

Americans off drugs. Death doesn’t

bother them, losing drugs to the police

is expected, but taking their money?

Yeah, it infuriates them to no end,

causes severe grief, forces them to

pop pills pacifying ulcers. Only then

will the real war begin.

-C.L.Swinney © 2015

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