Wall Street

The occupation of Wall Street is a frustration that calls for a beat.  Such drama is a waste of time, a hutch of dogma that tastes like slime.  Blurting egos on both sides of the isle are searching for kudos, a growth that is belied and an exile from common sense.  Compromise does not mean stalemate but cries for bloods caught by overseen bait: CLASS WARFARE.  Respect to communism and capitalism is imperative, an elect truism that is the baptism of God’s narrative.  The concept of revolution and competitive nature is over because it is the precept of an allusion’s corrective hater.  US alliance to flies fattened with notoriety is a science that defies maddened piety.  Tricks they play, leaving ticks to obey in bereavingbalance.  Reporting to duty as apostles of fortune is their distorting booty’s colossal misfortune.  Representation for enterprise is in order as the testation of the CEO hoarder lies in a web.

Distributing wealth is a prophetical paramount, rooting for health and a rhetorical mount’s class.  Broadcasts’ respective “switch ups” confuse with bombasts as a collective witch to muse about truth and logic.  The spin doctor Bill O’ Reilly bats deductions of sin, an accosterthat willsfor almighty percussions.  On the flip side there is the totalistic Anderson Cooper, the hip bride of socialistic stupor.  Where are the anchors’ melodic balladries that are fair and bar cankers in economic gravities?


Switch to our mobile site