I am very seriously angry
My government has gone mad.
It seems to be out to get me
And take everything I ever had.
Once I was proud of my country
And got a swell in my throat
When I heard the national anthem.
That was before they stole my vote.

That was before I discovered
This country had been co-opted.
That was before the them of hatred
Had been officially adopted.
That was when animals were safe
And our national resources were too.
Now my government was to murder
The birthright owing to me and you.

That was before being rich
Was the only way to be fairly safe.
That was before the government
Chose to put their weapons on strafe.
That was before the wealthy
Could do whatever they might want
And before they felt it was their right
To go on television and flaunt.

They flaunt their hatred of women,
The poor and the weak and sick.
That was before I could not deny
Our country had become a dick;
A horrifyingly rich and powerful
Banana republic , we’re the worst.

Equality and protection are gone
Unless you are a millionaire.
And even then you must adhere
To the party line or else beware.
But we have the greediest bunch
Of liars and evil brand of crooks
That have ever been in control;
The leaders are cooking the books.

Forty Russian women
Ask me every day
They beg me to friend them
On Facebook, so hey,
How come I spend
So much time all alone?
None of these Russian babes
Ever show up in my home.

They seem to be hot for me
And say such naughty things.
I have always thought that I
Wouldn't need to be a king
Or a rockstar for me to get
The attention of such chicks.
Who, me? Not even on a bet!

Yes, I friended several of these
goddesses from the steppes;
They all demanded promises
Of some very hefty tips.
While I am not a movie star
I don't look all that bad
That I have to pay for sex.
That would just be sad.

In truth I was foolishly hoping
That one of these ladies did
Want to meet someone like me
And  wondered where I was hid.
A recent Miss Moscow runner-up
That Trump had not over abused.
And here I sit with a lonely heart
Just waiting to get itself used.

So, like the fool at slot machines
I kept thinking the next would pay
And kept on reading those requests
And believing them every day.
I know there must be lovely girl
Who is looking for someone like me.
Im even studying Russian now, so
How much more perfect can I be?

He has little sense of sorrow,
He thinks of fond tomorrows.
He’s a fabulist, a dreamer.
Not quite a true schemer
That would be too hard.
More like a half-awake bard
Making up poetic outcomes
For a reality that never comes.
Mostly he’s a bum.

He’s a moonbeamer,
Sliding down colorless rainbows
That he paints himself daily
Proclaiming about how gaily
The emptiness of his canvas
Has so sadly missed us
And somehow we are to blame
For not managing to be the same
As he is by appreciating
That which is not there.
He has daydreams to spare.

He shares his hopeful possibilities
That are not always practicalities
Made of unborn actualities
And fanciful surrealities
Painted over his shortcomings
Hoping nobody will see them
And talk too badly against them
Ahem-ing and coughing phlegm
When he orates and pontificates
On his latest boilerplate stories
Of his imagined future glories.
Lost in his own thought stream,
He’s a totally hopeless dreamer.

Fear, the maker of dreams,
Of what seems to be reality
Often leave me in screams,
Fatally afraid of my mortality.
Morality not in question
I forge ahead in my temerity,
Heedless of resolution
Resolutely accepting intensity.

At each preposterous scene
I react as if I am undeserving
Unable to know what it means
Pretending they’re not unnerving.
Just like in my waking real life
I try to tough it out and brag
But my villainy is cut with a knife
The specter keeps in a velvet bag.

I want so badly to wake up
But the dream gave me a potion
To drink from a bejeweled cup
Filled with a delicious poison.
And the other specters are sweet
Speaking in enticing voices.
The follow me with silent feet
Viciously narrowing my choices.

We have the wherewithal
To feed every boy and girl.
We also have the resources
To blow up half the world.

We have the extra cash
To let Congressmen roam
And also full resources
To give everybody a home.

We have plenty of money
To pay countries to like us.
Why can’t we make life
For our own people joyous?

We seem to be able to
Make death machines for all,
Why can’t we create for us
Medicine whose cost is small?

We can afford to give subsides
To the corporate welfare queens
So, why can’t we figure out how
To make functioning voting machines?

We buy stupid tripe every day in print
Why can’t we give up that crap for lent?
We hurl insults at non-Christians brothers.
It’s not possible this is what Jesus meant.

We have the wherewithal
To feed every boy and girl.
We also have the resources
To blow up half the world.

Platitudinous, pusillanimous,
Pulchritudinous, posterior
Poseur, postulating pus bag
Posing as plenipotentatious
President POTUS, posturesome
Proudly putting paws on pussies
Publicly preposterous woosie
Pretending propriety: a putz.

Eternal egregious eccentricity,
Endless empathy-less publicity,
Effectively inbalming ethnicity
Eviscerates any essential nobility
Excluding even existential energies
Of expectations of excellence
Instead enacting evolution-free
Economical inimical extortion.

Hourly horror holler hate,
Both houses holding hotheads
And hundreds of houris
Honoring honor-free hopes
Hesitation-free horrible haste
Hosing hope and helpmeets
Who have inherited helplessness
From heartless halfwit hoydens.

Boisterous boobs and boors
Beat beauty and belief badly
But beg and bawl for bounty
Bathing in bastardy and blood
But beyond bowing to betters
Banquets and bowers of berks
Badly bent beyond blessing,
They’re best boxed for burying.

I’m as happy as a billionaire
Counting money in his vault.
I’m as silly as a circus clown
And it's surely all love's fault.
I’m as dopey as a diplomat
Who doesn’t know his facts
And still runs his mouth off.
But that’s just how I act.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

I keep on giggling and I know
People think I’ve gone goofy.
There’s a huge smile on my face
And I”m quite sure I look loopy.
I babble like a fool on drugs.
And skip and dance instead of walk.
I’m sure I sound like a big dope
And make no sense when I talk.

Being in love is making me
Act like a bull goose loon.
It’s a pleasant kind of madness
I hope it's not over soon.

Everything looks good to me
When seen through eyes of love.
I like rain and sunshine and all
The gifts from high above
As well as the joys one finds
Just walking through the day.
It’s not my fault, I do insist.
Love has made me this way.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

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