The golden lips of stimulation
have yet to caress my station
so put off the long vacation
snuggle up to isolation
beating heart media nation
awaits the next great sensation
in the voices of vexation
anarchy becomes temptation
nah nah….
more to come /evolved from failed poem to potential song
Universal torment is the nature of the game.
Sometimes it’s right, and then the rules just change.
What was, still is, and evermore shall be, but not the same.
And laws, like mad chess pieces, rearrange.
And since the game is run by man, then one must have the rein.
But who appoints that man is still in question.
And what if, at the helm, that man goes visibly insane?
Then who steps forward to make a suggestion?
We dig back through history and analyze commotions,
war, plague, heresy and insurrection.
We vet anger, hatred, greed and other crass emotions,
then boil them down to one big fake election.
A melting pot of irony, grief, graft and family trees
is stirred until it naturally boils over.
And that’s where torment really starts, with people on their knees,
dosed by ennui as devils play red rover.
This is not the time for rhyme or careful rumination.
Train of thought is overwrought and has just left the station.
Protests down in Louisville of course attracted violence.
Covid’s killed two hundred-thou and all we hear is silence.
President says he may not step down after election.
“Herd mentality’s” his nod to natural selection.
Climate change now threatens our land’s hazardous waste sites.
If you’re in a flood plain near one, best start booking flights.
Health care and abortion rights may soon be stripped away.
There is not one shred of good news. No poem today.
Biden’s going to hand his presidency to Kamala,
then hide in the oval office like it was Valhalla.
That’s the latest racist charge from our beloved leader.
It’s the kind of thing that makes a perfect FOX news feeder.
Cory Booker in the suburbs, sneaking through your yard,
stealing clothing off your line. You know that times are hard.
Watch out for Dem congressman Jeffries. First name is Hakim.
They’ll put him in charge of sleep and he’ll invade your dream.
Then there’s AOC and her squad bud Ilhan Omar.
They will tax you ’til you just have quarters in a jar.
Gays and anarchists will sway your children in their schools.
And ‘Shifty” Schiff’s swift socialism will be our new rules,
It’s all right there in front of you, just listen to the chatter.
So, don’t vote Joe. He’s got to go. He thinks that Black Lives Matter.
We thought Mitt gave a shit,
but now he’s shown his hand.
He’s just another drummer
in the orange marching band.
So RGB’s replacement
will be named Saturday,
soon’s they get her coffin
out the fucking way.
It’ll be a woman, sure,
but she won’t have Ruth’s heart.
Well, at least it’s not Ted Cruz.
Guess that’s a good start.
Only thing can stop this now,
four senators with guts.
But then they risk the usual,
death by a million cuts.
And so the top court in the land
will tilt way to the right.
As long as Trump’s the upper hand,
the rule is fight or flight.