Once upon a time
In a kingdom far away
Lived a prince
With a parrot
That could never say nay

The prince was as fair
And as good and true
That he bore a mirror
On his shiny shoe

The king was old
And not that bright
My true son I am old
you are always right

Our land is no longer
As fair as should be
You must slay the dragon
From across the sea

Make my kingdom
great again
Was his dying word

The righteous prince
that was always true
Got his sword and his shield
and his shiny shoe

Ride forth into the land
He said to his nobel steed
For the holy truth
And the pious deed

He came across
a crouching man
With a cart full of books
in his nobel lands

Thy be a wizard I say
if mine eye is true
Deceitful words on parchment
carried by thy hans

My lord
who is just and true
This is but litter
to burn for my evening stew

The prince was glad
he did not like books
What have you cooking, he said
he was hungry by the looks

Oh, but lord
I am but a humble serve
But to the princ surprise
He was undeterred

This stew was of such a peculiar making
It had everything a heart could desire
And indeed it was a stew of marbles
That could build an empire

Come ride with me
this is my will as ever before
And the man-wizard
Bowed right down to the floor

Make my kingdom
great again
Was his dying word

Then it was not long
as you might say
They came upon a man
as pale as the day

In his cart you know
as you might have guessed
portraits of princes and princesses
They were quite underdressed

What heresy is this
As you well understand
the prince exclaimed
I am the only prince of this god given land

My lord with your inspection
This is but lost souls
Traped in their own reflection
They see only themselves

But in time they will only see you
If it be your wish
I will make it true
my just lord and fair prince

The prince was glad
He did not approve of false idols
So he quickly bestowed the man
With lands and titles

Let me put the lords grace
upon the land
And he bid the pale man follow
So to take a stand

Make my kingdom
great again
Was hid dying words

And low and behold
soon again turning mellow
They came to see
this third odd fellow

With a cart full of pumpkin
I care not for this
It has to be great
It has to be spectacular

But the odd man say
My good prince look
This is no pumpkin
thy eyes have mistook

He drew out his wand and
biffe-dee-baffe-dee-boo

A golden carriage
You see
Will take you wherever
you need to be

You need think no more
Just relax your mind, it is so
No tedious decision upon
Where you want to go

I say let's go
beyond the heavens
To a land with red
and fruitful soil

What is this mystical land away
I need a place
To put bad people  
That doesn't understand my greatness, to stay

Dark men
Eating cats and dogs
And obstinate witches with crooked noses
Eating squirrel and frogs

Make my kingdom
great again
Was hid dying words

....Now I am growing tiresome
my children
Your old grandpar say....

Oh now, you say that
the parrot I have forgotten
But mind you there was not only one
No it was not rotten

There was a whole lot
A choir of cockatoo
And as everyone knows
A whole lot mean true

this was indeed pleasing
for our dear prince delight
that he was the best
at every given plight

That all loved him
who was right of mind
Who was good
Not mad nor blind

They (and you know who I mean)
Claim (vociferously and accusatorily)
That
They (who lay their hands on and call on the Holy Spirit)
Are
Christians (funny to see that word in their lexicon).
They really do think that.
Is Christ that confusing,
Or
Is it Just Them?

They tried to **** him
They tried to jail him
They tried to discredit him
They tried to remove his dignity
They spread lies about him
Tried to throw him into the fire

All it did was sharpen his resolve
He rose to meet the challenge
He refused to be broken by them
He refused to bend the knee
To their hedonism  
He welcomed discomfort
He was relentless
And did what needed to be done
Fight, fight, fight

He has earned my respect

__________

Frustration is having a government
that was created of, by
and for the People
that's been hijacked by money,
holding We the People in contempt.

Those red-hat doffers
Are the blood-thinning vermin.
Stop.

Unbound, but constrained
  Loving, but unloved
Caring, but disregarded
  Doer, but unappreciated
Your personal activist, but inactive personally
  Action, but inaction
Passion, but apathy
  Whole, but broken
Filled, empty basin

He fancies himself a cowboy
In line at the corner store
Concealed carry snug on his hip
(He secretly hopes someone gives him some lip)
The cashier hands him his change without meeting his gaze
He’s surprised and aroused.
She knows her place.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

He fancies himself a nonconformist.
A free thinker
The sheep will all do what they’re told
And he’ll be ****** before he goes peacefully to slaughter.
It was easy, he figured it out
Demanding proof is just an excuse to hide behind doubt
A warrior,
he wields the flaming sword of truth
His wife asks a question; he breaks her front tooth.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

Somewhere a fat man is checking the math as he’s being served lunch
Picking through numbers, looking for nibbles
He dribbles drool onto his chin,
as he dials his guy in The Caymans
His stomach is rumbling, it’s never enough!
To deepen ones pockets, one first must make cuts.

The determinant cause for the silver mine fire
Will read “Accident: faulty electrical wire; Company denies liability
per signed agreement at hire.”
And the cowboy free thinker won’t laugh at the joke,
he’ll just choke
There will be no survivors

But today, The Cowboy nurses his hate,
while Somewhere a fat man is writing the fate of the cowboy in pen,
pleased to be Great Again.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

Came to life as an alien,
And my skin palette is broader
try and hold me down while I'm breaking the border
Trumping over these walls, call me a dreamer

The angel of death wears a MAGA hat
And commends the work
Of his marketing and rebranding director
As they synchronize
Their Apple Watches to close
The circles of hell.
The charnel house market is about to boom and
He’ll offer the best capacity at top dollar prices
He’ll pocket the profits and stiff the contractors unless they’re stiffs already.
Even the angel of death might have an ethical quandry with this.
Our differences fade at the cemetery gate
Where we’re being processed like bottles at a redemption center
Where It means nothing unless he can pocket the deposits
And crow about his ratings
about how he’s the best
And if you look for salvation behind an artificial tan
You might as well be dead already
Like the space behind those eyes.