Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Song On the Election Of The 45th President




Ode to the Electoral College
on electing the 45th president

It's a killer concept
whose time has come:
 the dollar can talk
without any tongue;
dead pennies for eyes,
 an orange cherry nose,
soft phony fur and invisible toes.
Beat the boys down with your money stick,
today's the day
the billionaires have their picnic.

Out in the dark
without their mums,
they count their money
don't need any thumbs
to shine the machines
while the silly slaves bleed,
to steal all they can
from the hometown of greed.
Throw out the old, the starving and sick.
Today's the day
the billionaires have their picnic.

Forget Karl Marx.
Forget Langston Hughes.
Dance the Titanic
in your Gucci shoes.
Frack all the oil
at the point of a gun.
Step on the bodies
that pay for your fun.
Beat the world down with your money stick;
today's the day
the billionaires have their picnic.

~December 2016














Teddy Bear meme fair use via the internet

9 comments:

  1. An American tragedy for sure. I expunge him from my consciousness. "The dollar can talk without any tongue" is brilliant.

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  2. The Electoral College, or the Singsong Dimwits. I'll be grasping at any straw to get through these four years, whether high or low, unless he declares a state of emergency, a martial law and then we're going to have to rethink how to live our lives.

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  3. the billionaires have their picnic - but I am a chef

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  4. Oh, Joy... I hate that all this is true. I'm so angry, disappointed and straight up furious. Will the flesh-steps ever realize that they are nothing to the orange?

    This is like a song that should be dance with in front of a coffin, while wearing a shroud.

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  5. I can't stop the feeling that by the end of all that is about to occur, the countdown clock sitting at 3 minutes to midnight, will have moved forward.

    Maybe this is the end man has so often predicted and wished for.

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  6. Fascists are unfettered capitalists, and market capitalism is due for its Mussolini. This sings in the mouth like the jagged edge of can of consomme. Here's to this throatful of blood; I nominate it to kick off the shadow inauguration while the victors "Dance the Titatnic / in (their) Gucci shoes."

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  7. A scathing satire of a bizarre event. And the age of plutocracy is upon us again.

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  8. I can't even imagine what's in store. It's already ugly. However, I think that Teddy is innocent!

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg