I wanted to post this before the election was complete — however long that may be. The reference to Biden reveals how long ago I wrote this poem. Still, I am cursed with timely and timeless themes, so…this could apply to any presidential race in my lifetime…
King of the Hill
The battle for capital hill
Is off
To the razes
Overrun buy
Corporate prophets
Affront lyin’
In the art of the compromised
And war its extension
666
Like bullets to ahead
Weave rationales for the frayed
And spectacular overlooks
Of democracy a ledge
Leaving US
Holding won’s breath
Barren such inspiration for all
Helled as necessary
Biden our time
Donning such a peril
As emperors knew clothes
The deal clothed
Putting us in a terrible blind
The mustiest of musts
Not passing
The smell attest
As who will lose
The least
As groan from the middle out
And the top
Down with being behind
The curtains
For the wrest of US
Only won thing posed
In perpetual cries is
By hour puppeteers
Who gets
To be king
Wile won thing is a sure abet
Not giving
A hill of beings
