The grave’s a fine and private place
But none I think do there embrace
Especially in a noisy race
When pundits scream from place to place
And talking heads proclaim the words
Of villains, despots, smoking turds,
And unmasked crowds who could care less
Encouraged by the thoughtlessness
Of stupid, venal leaders who
Have led us into such a stew
And trampled on our civil rights
While getting richer day and night.
Don’t tell me of the current news
I can’t read more without my booze
Or carbs and weed – what’s there to lose?
Without another daily dose
Of truth and lies – it’s both of those.
The grave’s a fine and quiet place –
The end of news I’ll soon embrace.
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Nay stupid is the currency of this republic
The anointed, the elected, the appointed gather their cabal
To steer the Republic not away but too troubled waters
The aged king struggles as if alone against a sea of ignorance
The once but never again king fulminates and breathes cowardly fire
The armed masses manifest and threaten to force their will upon the nation
A few lonely voices give hope to those who cower. and fear the worst
The torch of liberty’s light flickers against the growing darkness
Love this!
I’d prefer a bottle in front of me,
Over a frontal lobotomy.
As would I!