Live With It Or Die
You say you don't like seasons then try living on the moon;
Religion's dreams, man’s reasons, try Death’s sunken pit (1) in June.
If "compromise" just sickens you vote Donald Trump again,
Our homegrown fascist leader hates all humans with a brain!
Don't let him know you value hearts; he'll take yours for a spin,
Contract with rodents, sell your parts, (before he does you in.)
Of course, the truth is we all die, but better him than me,
Titanic ego, Grinch's (2) Son, his death, like Christ, could free!
The devil's minion’s boss now, and what he loves best is lie,
For each man fooled, awarded star, his "tinker toys" (3) of sly!
Self-righteous friends cut funding for a government “too large,”
And then pass savings to the rich, for favors they discharge.
These terrorists have trunks of tales they spin till folks can't stand,
While this "divine wind"(4) fills its sails, they rape and pillage land!
Brian Johnston
July 8, 2017
Poet’s Notes:
(1) North Americas lowest sunken desert, 282 feet below sea level is called Death Valley and has recorded temperatures approaching 134 Degrees Fahrenheit.
(2) A name for a man who is mean-spirited and unfriendly.
(3) A toy for a very young child for whom "building blocks" are too easy. Such a child (like our president) is still not capable of life beyond diapers.
(4) The appellation for Japanese pilots who would commit suicide by flying their explosive-laden planes into enemy targets to further the Japanese empires aspirations, valuing dogma over humanity.
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2017
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