Ruthie Ginsburg is gone, and that's sad.
Trump will find a replacement to add.
Let us look on and cheer
As appointment draws near;
The progressives now drive themselves mad.

From the ACLU to the Court,
she promoted the right to abort.
You may claim she was God's
but she seemed, by all odds
more a midwife of murderous tort.

Say goodbye. All her honor is spent.
A new judge now begins their ascent.
Ruthie's star has gone dead.
A black hole . . . or a red?
(Only Jesus can say where she went.)

You killed the child in me.
A brutal ****** it was,
no mercy for his gentle soul.
His wide eyed wonder gone.

He was doused in gasoline,
and swiftly set alight
turned from happy kid,
to raging inferno, lit the night

His ashes did not have time to cool
before a stirring in their midst.
A cynical angry man did rise,
Not a phoenix borne of myth.

For now it hurts, just to smile
there's no mirth in my eye.
My laughter lines are obsolete
Just extensions of my frown.

I sat beneath the tree of me
its sheltering boughs spread wide.
Catching the afternoon sunlight on
hoary green leaves.

I sat beneath the tree of me
it's twisted, gnarled trunk stood strong,
Scarred by initials crossed out.
It's gooey sap ebbing and flowing to
the erratic beat of my own heart

I sat beneath the tree of me
thirty two rings, some thick, more lean.
A centre core, a maypole of happiness and
not

I sat beneath the tree of me
cradled by roots dug deep.
wispy wind wiggling my hair
comfort in all of me

I sit beneath my ageing tree
on a blanket far too large.
"You're welcome" I'd say to passersby
to sit with me a while.

This old fashioned simpers in my hand
Sweet and sharp, Bitter and Blight
it calms my everything
to a point
where I cannot
Deal

It is, I tell you, I promise.
It sits on my right, open and barely touched.
Pure condensation glittering on the outside
Chemical intoxication squatting on the in.

Charmingly Silver and a splash of red
the colour of an impulsive clown.
"Diet" it says, Im not on one.
"Coke" it says, Im not on that either.

why are you even here?

It’s suffocating.
I used to read you through rose tinted sunnies.
Now all I see are black and white scratchings
It’s you for sure, my heart can tell
But your colour is gone.
Yawn.

An empire, built on Extreme empathy.
Welcomes in the parasite of its own demise
Feeds the anarchy with the cornerstones of its ethics.
Tears down it’s moral walls so as not to offend it’s destruction
Lies with blank smiling eyes, eviscerated in the street.
Good thing, good thing we were so woke.