The junta has settled its hash with me Having conceded I am quite insane For eight fifty-six a month USD
They posit they will pester me no more Nor knock up my doctor with those inane Questionnaires which quantify sanity And leave behind their torments tried before To drive me to the homeless life outside
I won by loss but heaven knows they tried To huff and puff and stuff me stubbornly Since nothing succeeds like excess I guess
Still I exceeded them in stubbornness Remaining insane with my damaged brain Documented so meticulously That though all else is lost here I remain Stuck in the safety net one of the few Who gets to live indoors almost like you
In five to seven years they might check back But the neo-cons will have gone by then Their junta hounded haunted by Iraq
I will be among the forgotten men A raggedy-man at the end of time With stubbornness stupid enough to stay Here to obsess by syllable and rhyme With eight fifty-six a month USD Which creditors make haste to take away But creditors never take poetry
Muddling through madness yet muddling somehow Fiat Lux (if just a little for now)!
This rocks. I have a thing for alliteration, and you use it well here. I also like how you turn their stubbornness back on them -- great choice of words ("stubbornness stupid enough to stay").
I can taste the bitterness, but the resolve comes through even more.