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Francie Lynch Jan 2020
… and the Sanhedrin cried out loudest,
Free Barabbas.
The Republic got nailed.
Sins of the Senate.
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
I won't come up short again,
Falling for clichés and praise,
Not now nor till the end of days.

I will not roll my weary eyes,
Shut ringing ears to truth-based lies;
Click my tongue or act surprised,
To the shenanigans of home-grown spies.

I will not throw up my hands,
But step close to the deathbed rant,
And hear the confessions
Of the Select's election;
The psalms of prophets
Who turned sour,
Who get ****** for their greed for power.

     I am he for whom you search,
      my manicure suits the crown.
      I'm not worthy for such honour,
      To be a prince or harlequin clown.
      You'll pardon me,
       If I misspoke,
       But you missed the punchline:
       I'm the joke
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
The collective elective
Threw a bag of human waste
On the White House steps,
Torched it,
And stuck around to watch it burn
On TV.
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
Charles didn't heed the Puritans
He was God's appointed,
Anointed and empowered.
He tumbled from above,
Down through the law,
Lost his head.

Nicholas was placed in the basement crypt,
A cult-like condemnation;
So they stood him against the wall,
He listed to his Monk,
His reasoning debunked,
So they shot the anointed one
On his golden throne.

Benito was above the law,
High on meat hooks.
Could we dare to look?

If you were lucky,
If you were tied to a stake,
And the ******* ignited,
Someone dear would tie a bag
Of gunpowder around your neck.
Why let the crows pick out his eyes,
Make golden nests from his hair.
End the torture. Pull the life-line.
Sever the head from the body politic.
It is the righteous thing to do;
It is the civil thing to do
In pensive state.
Rise up from your ashes.
It is the kindest cut of all.
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
We're in thrall.
Where's your wall?
You dump truck...
You fumb duck...
You other mother...
You worse than senseless thing.
Julius Caesar, I, i.

— The End —