Some people were upset and they said it was unfair.
George Bailey killed old man Potter and he went to the electric chair.
George discovered that the eight thousand was stolen by Potter.
George became enraged and he was angry enough to slaughter.
George went to Potter's house with his gun and he shot Potter through the heart.
As they strapped George to the electric chair, he knew his decision wasn't smart.
George refused to have his head shaven and his hair burst into flames.
Poor George truly became a hot head and he only had himself to blame.
George became a psychopath even though he used to be nice.
He decided it was best to **** Potter and sadly, he paid the price.

shall i compare myself to others every day?
they are more charming, and more talented:
tough luck does take its toll; often too hefty to pay,
and the bill of regrets is way past its due date;
sometimes too hot the baton of pride burns inside,
and often in a sea of mediocrity naked, i swim;
and every ball from ball sometimes drops,
by a poet in his underpants, and *****, untrimm’d;
but my eternal hard-on shall not fade,
nor lose faith inside the hole i bore’st;
nor shall spite keep me from dues unpaid,
when that eternal hard-on in time so grow’st:
so long as i can sing, profoundly and care-free,
so long lives this - it’s a fun read, won’t you agree?

A dark clay raven hung at a windowpane
to ward off bright songbirds from glass.
It never spoke a word, nor did it feign
to know of a departed late lass.

I asked it my questions, expecting more
conversation than it had on offer,
but plainly it found me a tedious bore
for it stayed quiet. Not much of a talker.

The brief encounter left me po-faced
as I’d been led to expect more from him.
So I turned away, belying a trace
of disappointment weighing within.

Then I heard the wind, and nothing much else
except the song of birds who’d survived
thanks to the clay raven who hung by a belt
in front of a window to keep it disguised.

How many crows
Would a scarecrow scare
If a scarecrow could scare crows?

As many crows
As a scarecrow'd care
To scare if a scarecrow could scare crows.

What if I can see it, smell it, almost touch it,
That gilded throne where I will proudly sit,
Would people think me mad,
Is my ambition so preposterous and bad.

And why not me, have I not earned this crown,
Someone not worthy of that queenly gown,
Bejeweled and composed for all to see,
My vassals all around, bowing deep to me.

Naysayers bleat I'm just an empty ship,
With lights and streamers pretending to be hip,
Without a cargo or destination clear,
Sailing in circles relying on the wind to steer.

But if we're given to analogies, what if I were a Trojan horse,
With clear intent and undisputed course,
Where guile and purpose rule the day,
The aim to soundly win not merely one to play.

Demean and underrate me at your peril,
I can pivot between angel and pure devil,
While my laugh is designed to be disarming,
It masks a side of me considerably less charming.

Everything I've wanted I've achieved,
A trajectory few would have believed,
Do you think I'll stop at this last jump,
And in so doing fully flatten Trump?

𝓐𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓶 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓷'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮,
𝓝𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓘 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶.
𝓘 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭.

𝓟.𝓢.  𝓘 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭.

How, or when, or what is not the Akond of SWAT?

Does he pick his nose with his fingers and toes?
When he smells a rose does he slime the rose                 with SNOT,
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat?

When he texts a text does he always press SEND?
When he chats online does he chat with a friend            or a BOT,
                                                            ­                      The Akond of Swat?

Does he breakdance, jitterbug, krump, or twerk?
Will he dance a jigg, or jive, or ****,                               or GAVOTTE,
                                                        ­                          The Akond of Swat?

When he eats a banana, does he eat the peel?
Has he eaten an eclectic electric eel                                or a BRAT,
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
When or how or what is not
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat!

I'm sitting pretty biding my time
Staying real quiet towing the line,
For President Biden, that lovely old man
Playing the game as only I can.

Why make loud waves, somehow act up,
When everything soon will fall in my lap,
Quiet will do it, with a giggle or two,
Hold my cards close and see this thing through.

Joe barely knows and doesn’t much care
When all he can muster is the 50 yard stare,
Once a great man now just a shell
Hell of a shame he can't hear the bell.

Time is my friend for as every week passes,
The closer I get to those fawning masses,
Cheering me on as I take our great oath
Sealing my path, cementing my growth.

Joe's a mere tool I’ll use till I'm ready,
But it needs to be soon as he's ever less steady,
Have him beat Trump, that foul mouthed buffoon,
Then on to dear Joe who shan't be immune.

The Media will gush, but just for a bit,
While I contentedly wait and quietly sit,
One gaffe way too many, they'll call for his head,
And here am I ready to jump in instead.

Madam President, sure has a ring,
A fine tune Beyonce will conjure and sing,
As to the fact I wasn't elected,
Who cares if it's me that must be selected.

For those that once doubted my
inscrutable skills,
It gives me the goosebumps and even the chills,
I socked it to Hillary and ******* the great chump,
So call me Kamala, the Queen and a Champ.