© January 20, 2021, the Griot Poet
A scion of a wealthy man,
Winning the sperm lotto by sheer chance,
Had all the trappings of success,
Squandered all his father’s loans and largess,
Indebted to mob gangsters and miscreants,
Indebted to fascist strongmen,
The facade of facades: he’s actually penniless,
Never once considered the virtues: prudence, justice, temperance,
courage, faith, hope, charity,
The last meaning, “love in action,”
He’d rather gin up a hoard
Of hellish, racist factions,
Cheerleading the storming of the US Capitol,
Making us an international embarrassment,
The embodiment of the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, wrath,
envy, lust, gluttony, and sloth,
Lacking proper love from father and mother, he had no soul to
sell, or measure the cost,
Of losing one,
In the waning moments of a Washington sun,
January 20, 2021,
The creeping minutes of a lame duck session,
He attempted a self send off triumphant - largely ignored,
Except by the fascists and hangers-on,
That don’t mind that he’s opened Pandora’s Box,
Except by those who despise The Constitution,
He attempted a coup because he couldn’t accept a loss,
He enters now a Memory Palace,
Of his creation,
Well past
The Twilight Zone’s dimensions
For as long as his wealth lasts,
He owes over a billion dollars in debts,
Coming due in the year 2024,
He’s the only president who never got above 50% approval,
Now down to the lowest thirty-four,
He’s the first-ever impeached twice,
Likely will be the first convicted in the Senate,
A lesson for Cruz, Hawley, and other republicans,
Who wanted to take the mantle of fascism,
Knowing that without voter suppression,
They can never win legitimately any elections,
To be viable, they will have to change their tactics,
Be compassionate,
Accept reality,
Respect science,
Embrace diversity,
Show empathy,
And less of their asses,
Stop this deification of the free market,
It is a graven image, and Golden Calf in their Sinai Desert,
Stop pimping itinerant Palestinian Prophets,
Who they never believed in philosophically,
Realize physically,
Dumbo Gambino descending that escalator,
Was an apt metaphor,
For what came later,
As “bottom” had no absolute floor,
Social media deplatformed him,
Like the international terrorist, he is,
Not because of any semblance,
Of moral values,
Because another first: a sitting President
Incited insurrection,
Because they anticipate pending lawsuits,
Anathema to corporations,
On their appalling behavior in pursuit,
Of avarice gifted by Mammon,
Political misinformation worldwide DROPPED seventy-three
percent,
Because they finally gagged ONE lunatic,
Because their viral algorithms
Promote sensationalism,
Not truth, or accuracy,
They just need metadata
To feed
Their digital altar of Moloch,
To satisfy their greed,
He is a Trojan Horse,
Dear Leader as deer tick on America’s ass,
Leaving like he came, displaying no class,
Prophet of his American Carnage and doomed insurrection,
Not apologetic or reflective,
He is the hollowest of hollow men,
The embodiment of TS Eliot’s script,
The closing stanza of which,
Can be a fitting epitaph,
To anyone daring to follow this dark path:
“This is the way [his] world ends,
“This is the way [his] world ends,
“This is the way [his] world ends,
“Not with a bang: but a whimper.”
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