Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.20.238.29
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I abhor the forfeiture of hard fought and won liberty

America - This nation will remain
the land of the free only so long
as it is the home of the brave.
courtesy a local Indiana man,
one named Elmer Davis -
(1890-1958) was
a journalist and broadcaster.
He worked for the New York Times
from 1914 to 1924.
As nightly news analyst
for CBS (1939-1941)
he had an audience
of 12.5 million viewers.
Roosevelt appointed him head
of the newly created
Office of War Information (OWI) in 1941.

Most likely long hours,
maybe even days or weeks
after most contentious election
witnessed within the United States
after voting machines satisfactorily deployed
(meaning at long last contender identified)
once winning candidates declared,
EVMs again kept inside the strong room
and the room locked and sealed,
which again done in front of candidates
or their representatives,
plus signs taken as well.

I don't wanna be stayin' alive
come Tuesday, November 5, 2024
particularly if the presumed winner
as forty seventh president
none other than antithetical,
despotical, egotistical, fanatical,
heretical, impractical, lunatical...
oafish hull windswept orange
and yellow spray-on
hair dyed, coiffed,
and barb burred septuagenarian
whose tidy quasi toupee
looks like a foreign racoon
migrated onto his head.

Cuz the death knell of democracy
willfully, woefully tolls
all across the webbed wide world
because Joseph Robinette Biden Junior,
whose insistence to remain in the drawing
drew droves of electorate to the polls,
handing victory margin,
whereby countless elephants
trumpeted far and wide
affecting a Republican landslide.

Impossible mission 
to keep doors shuttered
over subsequent pandemonium
to hear donkeys braying,
bobbing, and babbling
doleful "hee-haw" sound,
not because their tails pinned incorrectly,
but rather courtesy yes
screaming fans of Mötley Crüe,
(that Doctor Feelgood could not cure)
sparking seismic activity equivalent

to a 9.9 magnitude 
(so take that Taylor Swift)
deafening roar that rocks the crowded house
ushering bono fide pandemonium:
the name stems from Greek pan,
meaning 'all' or 'every',
and daimónion, a diminutive form
meaning 'little spirit', 'little angel',
or, as Christians interpreted it,
'little daemon', and later.

The aftermath of a Biden loss
(not just him - and his coterie
being called "loser"
the rest of life),
but would be a field day among
die hard Republicans,
and even some renegade Democrats
that would cause
the Grateful Dead to become awake
turncoats that would find
lovely bones of Benedict Arnold

rattling and humming with U2
courtesy hullabaloo quintessentially
branding, hashtagging, vetting and
rocketing nonestablishmentarians
as political outcasts
forcing an aging long haired
pencil neck geek such as yours truly (me)
forcing us (socially conscious voters)
to forage as a foreigner alienated, ostracized,
and penalized on another planet
survival incumbent upon

the outer limits of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows morphed,
jump/kickstarted, exaggerated
into monstrous shapes
along the edge of night,
which spooky, haunting,
ghastly, eerie place
more appealing than
then prospective tragic loss of freedoms
such as life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness,
which we take for granted.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required