I Wait With Bated Breath For C Cure T Clarence

I wait with bated breath for... C. Cure T. Clarence The following crafted approximately midway into the administration of forty fifth president, whose crass, gutsy, lewd, repulsive yawping finds him squarely poised to nab the nomination as Republican front runner come the 2024 election. The overstuffed ego freezer (yes him with the coiffed windblown hair has been making, sans daily) regular appearance in the news oval hate gambling arrogance vis a vis spewing, shouting, and scathing rabidly foaming explosive handy claptrap in ascendance, asserting how incredibly tremendous collusion between CIA, FBI and media (must warrants revocation, hence heroic intervention, and emergency das Pence sing balance of security fabled clearances Aesop - Asap) hounds engaged "brilliance" in (community) chance of making an very usual fool of himself, viz the "FAKE" trumpeting dapper Don expostulating the latest ploy, raging against the machine i.e. entire popular culture will get their comeuppance being so freely outspoken, a disgraceful unconstitutional defiance which oh press sieve act of deviance spluttered, thus an extreme measure to clamp down on all news outlets, and immediate disappearance all the while poor Melania stoically, objectionably and lamentably stands right alongside him, (nonetheless nonverbally metaphorically exhibiting vitriolic livid rage) as he rancorously spouts (ala VERY) convincing impression of la va reenactment qua, Krakatoa volcanic disturbance lambasting utter disgraceful disservice (foxy Dis Putin commercial stations construe, conspire, conjure egregious collusion outlets asper dominance a pugilistic ringside fan loathsomely (re: scowling non verbally), wherein pejorative spectators whether (moral less minority, and/or majority whips lashing) weather being subsequently splashed by LXXII spittle aged perspiring ogre) with exuberance (like some voodoo freelance sing hexed indigo gurl goo goo doll, a villainous venal mummified rattle trap declaring forbiddance from this moment forward grievance fomented by via triple threat to American democracy sans, intransigence, insouciance, ignorance, thus taking recourse upon the heads of "stupid" journalists forcing hand toward "losers" who spread lies, hence president signs issuance analogous to lance sing (via strong trumpeting arm), a yuge bigly boil saying believe me (meaning him - moron in chief) asseverating the congressional, global, and orbital bulwark acting with noncompliance necessitating entire military industrial complex arsenal heavily reinforced (at the expense of every social, governmental, environmental, etc cetera to manage unruly populace with mandatory diktat decreeing obeisance with non dodging demagoguery huff ford ding auto-da-fé fiat ordinance this platform to guarantee overdominance, when November 2020 election for forty sixth president takes place with poignance when courtesy hindsight transition to Biden administration punctuated by insurrection. When I witnessed capital one rebellion slack jaw froze mine countenance when eyes blinded with figurative daggers asper mistakes in original draft, hence...this flood proof, fire resistant, and fever reducing error free version. Yes...yes...yes, this rhyme resembles a recent one of mine from a previous time, yet appropriating wands zone writing haint no crime - at least not yet. Okay bull heave me you, at this moment alm completely unaware what the a muse zing genie of poetic inspiration will bring possibly shelving what Calliope holds in store for me, meanwhile now with impatience itching visa vis to discover what this Earthling, (albeit modest) will be amazingly graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling haphazardly, indiscriminately, and jocosely blitz krieg feebly attempting to contrive ingeniousness emits poetic prestidigitation in fits and starts, sans "FAKE" wits as this humble human imperceptibly orbitz around mister Sun, (which about bajillion years from now suddenly quits) shining foisting misery, where Nyx knocks (paddy whack give my dog a bone...) divinely, knowingly and spiritedly visits (believe me you) this trumpeting stupid moron loser forever doth taint after this moment (no need tubby saint lee and suppress any quaint gut wrenching chortle) at what ain't no farce), nor literary feint yours truly painfully, sorrowfully, and verily avers, he now lacks fire and fury (as if nettled and docked by burrs) nonetheless, which ambition dust hanker mink thinks furs, and foremost (Tom morrow i.e. purrs sues tha owl mighty, where fame posthumously spurs me amidst pantheon of great writers which dream dashed into a million, (no...no...no...not bajillion this instance, though good guess) pieces abysmal silence replacing (palimpsest like), mine over active imagination whirs.