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Poem
The finis sing touches touché

Knead dull brows knitted; 
belief system I cogitate 
gearing thee ordinary bipedal hominid 
acquiesces to deck the halls 
of the mountain (dew) king with boughs 
of sister golden haired 
sprinkling angel dust 
from cremated remains 
in bleak midwinter
unwittingly interweaving pagan rituals 

tacitly accepted yet quietly jeered
as anathema to march of the kings, 
who instilled obedience or death
which layman forswore, whence his loss 
of life or limb as mass of cries neared
resounding like tortured souls 
self flagellating their inherent 
joy to the world,
whereby unsuspecting cynics among 
the madding crowd paired
amidst common everyday folk 

beckoning ad lib lip-synced first noel
extemporaneously grafting customs 
taught when reared
as just a little drummer 
boy/girl pipsqueak, since 
straying from mainstream religious 
parameters scared the silent night 
with unimaginable ogres 
on the warpath to smite mortal 
man/woman with flaming torches 
angering unfriendly beasts tiered 

inside the city state panning labyrinth 
ready for total mortal kombat 
while shepherds watched their flock – 
as the latter veered
away from getting fleeced
such as this writer, 
who might be lambasted
for verging on the brink 
of being sacrilegious and/or weird
after forking over a tidy sum
a million bucks? Not by a far stretch.
 
Please keep on the que tee i.e. hush
regarding this soupy poetic fabrication 
bravely bursting buttucks amucks
thus haint wise to mess wit me
lest cha wanna split high knee
a fate worse than death 
with hen whoopsy tipsy
daisy excuse employing 
faux pas impairment via this Gypsy. 

Diabolical harassing lurked
poised – ready to strike yours truly,
when he obliviously frolicked,
during his boyhood carefree
before the onset of self loathing.

Drunk with knowledge
whither hearing, vis (ideally,
liberal commentators I adore),
asper "NON FAKE") news,
more than weather, latest sports score
or reading, (yes of course
out loud applying index finger de rigueur
of right hand as pointer)
poetically mentioned once before
ditto via select publications
(oh...alright TIME Magazine, The Nation,

and/or Mother Jones) all of which boar
like a mellow red bull at four
after midnight, nonetheless, who decrees
(hmm... maybe ludicrous 
to ask Jeeves courtesy deplorable
basket case, but inquisitiveness persists
what body electric discriminates furthermore
freedom of what gets published, or
determines permissible broadcasts
made by Federal Communications Commission
allowing, enabling, and providing galore

of choice morsels pollinating
mass media buzzfeeding popular culture
additionally permitting opinions 
shared by hardcore
investigative journalists, 
putting life and limb at risk
nonetheless inherent within constitution delimiter
i.e. bureau to censor radical, subversive, more
treasonous than Socialism
with Iron Maiden on tour
must serve as kickstarter

to stifle: tyranny, mutiny,
anarchy, et cetera and shore
up defenses (perhaps in dolled guise of a
reinforced wall) toward those who ignore
codas defining complex edifice of government
trumpeting defiance, uncivil disobedience,
insouciance, et cetera in an attempt to restore
totalitarianism stripping away inalienable
rights of life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness endowed by a smoothbore!
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