Harris and Trump hit the stage
At stake is the next US president
The debate was filled with rage
The debate was filled with torment

It was like watching a tennis match
With each participant taking shots
Back and forth we watched the barbs hatch
Back and forth each tried to connect the dots

Harris let her racket do the talking
While Trump defended the ball in his courts
The participants were mocking and rocking
The participants built word forts and false reports

Harris wasn't perfect and neither was Trump
But you can see clearly which one looked the part
Both party's stars are looking to triumph
Both party's stars are pledging a fresh start

Time and time again we hear campaign dreams
So it comes down to which candidate you believe in
Which candidate has less Pinnochio inseams
Which candidate you want to win

On November 5th the votes will be cast
And of importance, our American welfare is at stake
So think it over and be true and steadfast
So think it over and make ... no mistake

Logan Robertson

9/11/24

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?

Whose lie will do less damage?

Nothing personal, it's all political.
Hard rock mine real estate, mind state,
less turmoil, after the blast, settling dust,
grand fluffy occlusions in purple sunsets,
as the herds return to sleeping grounds.

Kinds flock together, all united
under the kinds that shepherd flocks
to fleece them in season and out,
instant,

"Preach the word;
be instant in season, out of season;
reprove, rebuke, exhort
with all longsuffering and doctrine."

Live and learn, or turn and burn
with desire to know where curiosity leads
life out of mind.

Biological means life logos using
Meat machines to make up mind's
Machinations,
PIE *magh-ana- "that which enables,"
from root *magh- "to be able, have power."

"we wrestle messengers, and make 'em pay"

Wille zur Machts misthoughts fog,
into which the white horse disappeared,

leaving the illiterate hedge hog in the clear.

Have you never invited a story to live in you,
did you never attempt to memorize
Casey at bat, or Paul Revere's ride?

At the base, most least highest part of you,
at the sole
of the foot you stand upon,
tree pose, suppose, imagining balance
is a system that makes your spirits rise,
and imbalance attempts prevention,
by increasing the will
to believe I can remain so posed, great
iffing ego boost, foul form
of gaseous wedom
given a good convincing win
in puberty, while transitioning
to fructificating adult…

aha, the man
in the mirror, sees the child
wondering as if wonder were a verb won

by one willing to see if one can see
beneath the blindfold, in the classic game

was it blind man's bluff, or pin the tail,
one of those everybody knows but me games,
popular in ****** forms of making others laugh

at our blindness,
so we all learn a kind
of way we all are different, a way
some find funny as blind poker players.

Is this the tell, can we think we see you lie
?
¿
Is an a a take away, as amaze,
lifts one above
around astounding stories
with miracles fixed dogma used
to judge from, after the last Trump
about the time grace is defined
in religious prep
as unworked for favor, like
"money for nothin' and chicks for free"

but far more culturally refined,
more Trumpian
big iron American, real estate,
******* fixed military order
where only
rank matters,
at the last judgement, that's the tell,

is what a gnat thinks
of an elephant controversial?

Can a gnat make an elephant scratch?

Ai, in the blink of an eye, watch.
Here's mud in your face,
big disgrace, a flea madjaphlench… yo? Y'know?

Earth to the Universe, listen,
there is really too much to take on trust.

True rest, does not allow a liar to lead an army.

Whose face resembles a slapped cantaloupe?
Whose face could curdle cream?
Whose face is in a class of eejits all by itself?
Whose face spews out more **** than his ****?
Whose face resembles a boil in need of lancing?
Whose face would be left on shore cause the tide wouldn't take it out?
Whose face has a waddle waddling like Donald Duck?
Who?

I am Indian by birthright,
Simply black when it feels right,
A gender champion through and through,
A Southern Belle from the Bayou.

I cover all the bases from Gay rights to MeToo,
Environmental warriors – I’ll always stand with you.
Black lives truly matter, the Homeless my pet task,
All you need is Me, you don’t even need to ask.

Show me any audience and I'll immediately relate,
Where's the very harm to myself Ingratiate;
They say my laughs a cackle, but that's blatantly untrue,
It's simply Inner-me, reaching out to Outer-you.

As to championing Hamas, that's nothing but a slur,
The fact my husband's Jewish should that thought conclusively deter,
Same deal with loving felons, what will they dream up next,
That I'm a prosecutor who's never read the text?

On drugs and immigration, they titled me the Tsar,
I never asked for that as our Border is too far,
I'd rather spend my days engaging our core base,
Cajoling them to spend for this pivotal new race.

Vance calls me a Chameleon, Trump's confused by who I am,
They'll figure soon enough the cunning of this femme,
The more I keep them guessing, the less prepared they'll be,
When finally I pounce, then they'll twig who's truly me.

I've got the Party pliant, putty in my hands,
Celebrities galore, like shiny rubber bands;
Money pouring in, donors by the score,
All the worthwhile Media gushing it's Kamala they adore.

As to any policies, I don't stay up at nights,
Why worry when my bag holds Reproductive rights;
C'mon Donald, admit you’ve badly lost,
I'm the future President and you’ll be simply Toast.

Republican Vice-Presidential nominee JD Vance’s comments on the catastrophe, that is Donald Trump:

In DMs, he wondered whether Trump, “Is America’s ******.” (2015)
“Fellow Christians, everyone is watching us when we apologize for this man. Lord help us.” (2016)
“Donald Trump is a moral disaster.” (2016)
After one meeting with Trump, Vance wrote “My god what an idiot.” (2016)
“What percentage of the American population has DonaldTrump sexually assaulted?” (JD Vance, 2016)
Vance tweeted: “Trump makes people I care about afraid. Immigrants, Muslims, etc. Because of this I find him reprehensible. (2016)
“I’m definitely not gonna vote for Trump because I think that he’s projecting very complex problems onto simple villains.” (2016)
“Trump’s a total fraud who doesn’t care if regular people call him reprehensible.” (2017)
“Trump’s cultural ******, just another opioid for Middle America.” (2017)

On Twitter (X) Vance liked tweets saying Trump committed “serial ****** assault.”
and called Trump “One of USA’s most hated, villainous, and ******* celebs.”
.
.
A song for this:
The End of the Innocence by Don Henley

A coronation, watched by our entire great nation,
Some with trepidation, others boisterous jubilation.
Trump feted, his fawning family silhouetted,
Basking in his light, his confidence and might.

This Grand Old Party, it's followers vociferous and hearty,
Anointing their chosen man, to rule their ever-growing clan;
No harm to love a cause, giving thought and sometimes pause,
To what this passion brings, the words the siren sings.

Whereas strong leadership is good, it can be tainted just like food,
For democracy renounced, cannot then easily be found.
Let’s be careful what we wish, lest it be a poisoned dish,
Our founders crafted choice, beyond just
one resounding voice;

Autocracy is not a word, that in our Lexicon is heard,
We must vigilance ensure, for our country's story to endure.
Unity the dream, but like salmon in a raging stream,
Needs fortitude and grit, knowing when to fight and for the greater good, submit.

I play by the rules day in and day out,
Showing my class, wielding my clout.
I take the hard blows time and again,
Knowing my patience shan't be in vain.

Joe's on the ropes, all by himself,
Waiting around to be dumped on the shelf,
Restraint is my friend, as I pull back and watch,
Those flailing wild jabs I so easily dodge.

There's one rule to fighting, it's Biding your time,
Showing him up, using his dime,
Keeping ones cool, letting him dance,
Then all in one motion - destructively prance.

There's rhyme to the reason for the 12
Rounds to be,
So everyone knows, all clearly can see,
The prowess of one, the demise of the other,
An abject defeat, no spin as a buffer.

The guys just a has been yet I'm giving him grace,
Watching him flail, not setting the pace,
The fun's in the waiting, a matter of time,
For him to fall over, his crown to be mine.