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 ***.

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 *******
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 ***** 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 ***** 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.

Find yourself a nit.
So you can noisily pick it.
Find some tiny word’s ***
So you can busily kick it.
Ignore the real issues
Like who’s rotten to the pith,
And ***** about the clothes
Stars are bobbing for apples with.

Let’s pick on non-issues,
Like who is ******* who,
Unless it’s the government;
They can do what they want to.
Listen to the crazy rhetoric
Of some professional liars
And ignore the starving millions.
Boy, have we got crossed wires.

There will always be a nit
You can pick to your heart’s content.
Taxes are too high for the rich
The poor doesn’t pay enough rent.
And too many news channels
Keep telling the people the facts.
That makes the words you say
Sound not like how you act.

So call anyone who disagrees
Creators of alternate truths.
Blame the horrible crime rate
On left leaning depressed youth.
Pick those nits and mince words,
Vilify patriots and make them squeal.
Pick those nits and lie, lie, lie,
Until no it truth seems real.

I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Jesus!
Why’d you let all those liars get elected?
Why do you let them collect their bribes
And cheat people they should’ve protected?

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

A lot of crazy people claim you, Jesus
When they scream out hate and bile.
Where are the thunderbolts and plagues?
We have needed them for quite awhile.

Do we need another major flood now
That wipes out Washington D. C.?
Maybe that might wake the Republicans?
Maybe not, We’d have to wait and see.

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

I hear you’re coming back someday
To teach the sinners why and how.
Is there any tiny possibility at all
That you could manage that about now?

There are people that loudly claim
You heal people just by their prayers.
Could you open up sone free clinics ?
We’ve got poor sick people to spare.

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

And could you repeat that stuff, Jesus
About the eye of a needle and the rich?
I think the RNC convention would be
A perfect place to publish that pitch.

Mainly, Jesus, there’s stuff going on
That seems to be horribly unholy.
So, it is about time you spoke right up.
I mean, gosh almighty and holy moley!