Strange guests appear on Christmas Eve,
Entities, more real than seems;
And POTUS soon will get three visits,
From three well-known, transparent spirits,
That call as an unholy host.
Stormy, his first ghastly ghost,
Then Moscow Mitch to **** his boast;
But the ghost of Christmases to come,
Is New York's Vance; there's scary fun.

Our world is in a mess.
There is no denying.
I send money so people can help.
I love doing that.
There are wars.
People getting hurt on all sides of our polygon,
They're dying in all manner of ways.
I love the way people will fight for their convictions,
Fight till death if need be,
For FREEDOM, LIBERTY, HAPPINESS.
I love that.
I love people in detention for their beliefs,
Their faith, hope and determination.
I know what bog schools are, penal laws, Black and Tans.
(I also know about cages, Jim Crowe, and Proud Boys).
I love their tenacity. I love their lives. They matter.
I love their politics, their altruism; the really giving of oneself,
To serve one's nation. To truly love one's country.
For these reasons,
I love Sleepy Joe.
He gives so gracefully.
Sacrifices the remainder of his life for his country,
His people, His family.
I love how the Tyrant will collapse,
Feeling betrayed, mocked, humiliated, parodied,
Jeered at, ostracized for his megalomania.
A shower will never wash away the
Odor breathed among his consorts.
Brushing will not diminish the Trump taste, the rot in your mouth.
I love Aristotle's Poetics, The Wheel of Fortuna, The Great Chain of Being, and the cathartic effects of tragedy.
I Love Life.

"I'm the least racist person in the room,"
Presupposes
There are worse racists in the room.
Or,
I'm the only racist in the room.

To weaken him,
He sent the archangel Virus;
To muffle him,
He sent the St. Michael storms.

We love my mashed potatoes,
With butter on our plates;
But at the Trumpian table,
We'd eat from Donnie's pate.

If I was a bigot,
Or xenophobic,
Or prejudiced,
Or sexist,
Or racist,
Or even Evangelical,
I would argue
The Wrath of God
Has enveloped America,
Like a plague.
But I'm not, I'm a non-believer.

When the son-in-law
(who should remain nameless)
Is a clone
Of the father-in-law,
(whom should also remain nameless),
The son-in-law
Lies in an incestuous bed,
And the father-in-law
Gets a vicarious jump
On the wing
(the west one)

As in all Partici-Poems,
You're invited to add your own.
Based on Fake News and False Hope,
There's nothing here to help you cope.

Covid-19 is China's Beta version.
The real pandemic is yet to come.
They now have a one year head start.
They've proved they can isolate and destroy
Without leaving their country.
The Sleeping Giant has opened its eyes.

It's the Real Rich people's way of getting Really Richer.
It's a deal maker.
You're Hired.

It's all about Government Opportunity.
Remember Get Smart and the CONTROL Organization
For whom he worked.
If the shoe fits, GPS someone.

If we send young healthy Jimmy (who tested positive)
In to see all the Grandmas and Grandpas,
Think of the resources we'll free up.

Manipulate the markets.
Tell people Russia and the Saudis are friends.
But tell your family first.

Hydroxychloroquine
Not only will it cure you, but it promotes
Natural skin color, whether black, white, brown or orange.
This is supported by the WH Medical Dream Team.
It's a miracle. Deus ex machina.
Will also give you blue eyes and blonde hair.

And please use a clean syringe when injecting disinfectant.

SIEG HEIL

__________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­__________________

We know them best by their first names,
Names ingrained on our brains;
Mouthed by millions being slain,
By the viral ego of the politically inane.

Adolph, Idi, Kim and Pol,
Francisco, Mao and Nicol.
Other names have come and gone,
None rise so high, as Despot Don.

Tens of thousands die prematurely,
The man's bereft of human morality.
Preoccupied with re-election,
He risks a healthy population:
The aged, sick and compromised,
Won't cast a vote when they die.
The word is out throughout New York:
He ain't famly, de foykin joyk.