Oh, the corpses that float

In the shadow of

the New Colossus.



A gift that should

have been taken back

by the French

long ago.



The lies of her crown

of her torch

her tablet

upon which writ

was a cattle call

to the enslaved and persecuted

within our own walls.



Is it justice?

Is it fate?



Whence they tear from you

your robe



the tarping

they use for Army tents.



Before they nailed you

to the stake,

they made you dance

a little.



Wave your torch over your head

so they can see the light

bounce off your tired *******

and crest the slump

of your dimpled ***.



Your crippled legs beg for a kneel.
 

Yet you dance on.



In vain.



You will still not be spared.
 

When they stripped you of your crown,


Did you know they were serious?



Plucking from it the thorns,

that became the spikes

that held you upon and to

the stake.



The rust from your green palms.



Blood red and weary.



Not a tear,

as they douse you in oil

and sneer through expensive veneers.
 

The cash at your feet

was not an offering,

but instead,

a wick.



Your hallowed bones

and hollow soul,

the offering.



That beacon,

that torch,

meets the fuse.



As a chorus of laughter rises

from the company of despots

at the backwoods ceremony this is-



as the light of your wilting steel

and melting carcass

flicks off of their contorted faces-



can you tell me;



Is this the rooster coming to roost?



Is this the reaping of the sowed?




Is this a lie laid to rest?
 

Or,

would you have rather drowned-



Like the tablet they stole from you

and threw in the ocean.



To rest in the shadow of a wall.

If we vote you out we'll celebrate and throw the biggest party
Trump Baby please just go

And if we vote you out we'll buy many tickets from the biggest lottery
Trump Baby please just go, we don't want you to stay

A vote like ours is a vote to ease the mind
We'll never let them slip away!

You've gone too far and now are in a bind
How can you last another day?

When November comes we'll  have no regrets
Of votes we'll cast that day

A vote like ours is a vote to be enshrined
Joyously casting them that day!

You've gone too far and leave no peace of mind
How did it all end up this way?

When November comes we'll  have no regrets
Of votes we'll cast that day

And if we vote you out we'll buy all the tickets from the biggest lottery
Trump Baby please just go, we don't want you to stay

Oh Trump, we just got to have you leaving, yeah
Trump baby please just go, just go, just go

He uses Twitter, Twitter, Lord it is  frightening,
All you can see, is flat out crazy
He thinks his Twitter, is a world full of wonder,
Lying and blunders, for all to see!

Everyone Tweets to a certain degree,
Mostly kind and gentle to see,
Tricks he will do when MAGA appear,
They wear no masks when he's near!

He uses Twitter, Twitter, Lord it is  frightening,
All you can see, is flat out crazy
He thinks his Twitter, is a world full of wonder,
Lying and blunders, for all to see!

That feeling—
Night running between tree trunks,
Bark scraping your cheeks—
Before smashing face-first into:
Goosebumps,
   Neck snapped,
      The blood leaks,
That feeling is freedom—
Before you awake unfeeling your body,
Legs useless, mouth drooling dumb,
Welcome! You're one of us now,
The obedient numb.
I can! replaced by May I?
Physical stagnation, ornamental degradation
of the soul: the will dies always
Alone.

our land of the free
mason dixon
lines of *******
cowboys and aliens
crossing the southern border
lands streaming on twitch
live and coming to you from the L.A.
end times
with your host
the ghost of this debt's
gotta come due sometime,
sunshine,
if that don't **** us
first come, first serve

I don't know
what happened to Andri.
She was too good for this world-
few are.
I hope she is doing well,
wherever life took her
and I hope that she found the
anarcho-communist commune
she had always
desired.

is grieving for a stranger unfair?
it feels wrong to follow suit to causal continuation  
the moon awaits
the stars await
god awaits
the reaper sows
no glory will be to those who live without fear
blessed be to the exalted
dawning to the new age

Remember that feeling in 2016,
when your choices were - an orange
crybaby or **** filled latrine.

Vote for the third party or abstain,
both of which are options,
options labeling you as vain.

A zero sum game.
Only you're to blame.
A sense of shame.
Profanities, exclaim!
. . . All in the same. . .

Take that nausea and superimpose it
on to every aspect of your life.
2020 has been nothing but $h!t

Mister Maxwell reads the paper
Of the party that he pays for
And with subtle nods agrees
With each printed word he reads
He knows all the phrases to say
About the topics of the day
And he's politically engaged
(Marching in manifestations)
And appropriately enraged
(By violence and discrimination)
To be a hero of society:
A once-born self that's ceased to be,
A real symptom of democracy!
A truly enlightened zombie!