'Twixt old apples and oranges now on sale,
Lie inflated gestures of hidden gold.
Inflation's gist? A harsh and schizoid word,
Wreaking havoc on fools, both blind and bold.

Against endless pain of unstopped 'flation,
Dins flattery, harping empty hedges.
Flares cries for strikes, but no gain of substance,
'Cept again, the middleman who fudges.

Before ancient reawaken groans will fade,
The flatulence of minds confused must pass.
Ask not of pols, long-winded talks possessed,
From them, again, you'll buy colluded gas.

Can "up and down" be found to sprout,
From a singular semantic seed?
Faults so planted yield fruits not ripe nor cured;
Blooms but benumbing stale, noxious weed.

Of all things both inflated and cheapened,
"Inflation" flames above as most abused.
Our sad singeing, suffering slide will stop,
When bifid 'flation's tongues are fused.