Poem -

Pitching electioneering, albeit Democratic ticket...

Pitching electioneering, albeit Democratic ticket...

as 2020 presidential election nearing
pleading joshing, and endearing...

The choice for commander in chief dum...
dum... dum... dum..
will winnow down, thus
political prognosticator pundits
no longer remain mum
between Donald John Trump,
whose second term win,
would find yours truly numb

versus Joseph Robinette Biden Junior
could infuse flickering
uneasiness among electorate
(quite a few skool
of hard knocks alum
including yours truly),
who attests surfing cyber seas
as seasoned beach bum

up until this moment
feeling rather glum
regarding fate of American democracy
fizzling, muckraking, and sputtering
linkedin with kickstarting,
snapchatting, and twittering
along ever so ho hum
awaiting fateful deliverance

as dueling banjos strum
meanwhile irritable bowel syndrome
nsync with nausea
bubbling, gurgling, quickening
within collective tum
no doubt alleviated chugging,
guzzling, and quaffing
countless bottles Bacardi rum.

Nothing less at stake than (an ill eagle
feebly clutching cherished symbols - regal
representing land of the free and
home of the brave
analogous to once buoyant seagull

encompassing United States)
metaphorical snooping Beagle
only finding peanuts after landing
discovery (of America) triggering extralegal
imbroglios, which courtesy...

Thank manifest destiny
wrought accursed land grab,
where survival of fittest (think militarily)
nonchalantly, insouciantly actually
quite aggressively did nab
great juicy fruited plain continental slab

...to the mountains to the prairies
to the oceans white with foam...
where indigenous people
once stood tall and proud
applying contrived accoutrements,
which implements rendered mortally to stab

invaders, hence convenient plug to jibjab,
(while sack religious lame chap
donning unisexual hijab)
whale within poetic license
to orca straight heady
i.e. think lame muck cab
bra (even garnering groan from

ghost of captain Ahab)
denouncing cheesy pun,
whereby I (Stuart Little) best remain
as caged mouse
subjected to experimentation
within bore writ Tory lab.
Ā 

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I led a boring life.
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And still his death haunts...

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Galore of buzzfeeding,...

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with a scheming, loving, and enticing guise
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