by LJ Frank

an exhibitionist’s glow   

a colorized film noir

the man jabbed his middle finger

in the air

taught never to be sorry

an ego outgrowing its morality

a Revelation

penned by a man of wealth

who sought eternal streets paved with gold

and the trappings of that precious metal in his lodgings

for a price

the Faustian Bargain was consummated

while those without resources grew in number

he uttered to his aides 

am I responsible?

 

beneath the stage lights

the voice shouted I am the Chosen One

empathy was homeless

he tweeted lies as if they were the Truth

to erase the past and create his future

in honor of George Orwell’s epistle

atop a balcony waving

to his coalition of believers

under the guise of insecurity

a grin appeared

malevolence can oft be mistaken for benevolence

when seeking the Walrus

possessed with a 25-inch phallus of hope

 

federal judges and two justices to the Supreme Court

appointed with the Federalist Society blessing

a sign of the cross made in the wind

while the immigrants were chastised in cages

let them eat each other

on the Sabbath

 

the rhetoric dripped from the lower lip  

finality is never the end to politics

in the backroom of the Street

stripped suits massaged

their wool blend lapels 

as nipples hardened under the rub

all in the name of the Lord’s milky nourishment

 

and the Paris Accord ostracized to the desert

of grainy thoughts and agreements for now

discord was thought to have its place

as the boy king experienced a constipated vowel movement  

and assigned amateurs to professional diplomatic posts

and his staff and party became enamored accomplices

the nuclear code was never far off

 

for the head of this oil rich country

glanced at the Doomsday Clock

narrowed to 100 seconds

but he could slay anyone he thought

there were those who nodded in respect

the Constitution’s Second Article

was mugged in broad daylight

 

the world needs a daddy was whispered in corporate circles

and among family members whose reading was financial books

save the Art of War

for a cult follower cherishes the propaganda

the pandemic will go away of its own accord

deflection is the scrabble game of choice

polarization be damned

the chasm grew

structural isms in living color

each side pointed to the other

 

blood soaked wet dreams

the middle class remains missing in action  

the wealthiest don’t need a country per se

their money earns money while they play

and strangely, a priest from the Vatican heard the weeping

of a stranger in the Garden of Gethsemane

 

still the man decided he could effectuate God’s will

with no understanding of the world and its climate

he acted as if he were a descendent of superior genetics

as it turns out, he was merely an asset

for little did he know

he was chessman on their chessboard

though he wasn’t a riddle to his cult followers

in need of a hero for the strength they lacked within

 

in passing he would be impeached

for obstructing justice & abuse of power,

just ask the lawyers and the banks

but the family didn’t care

money buys freedom of movement

 

Woody Guthrie warned us in 1942

when he sang All You Fascists

but Antifa has changed meanings

disinformation offers beguiling headlines

and the campaign of 2020 was witness to an incumbent

unable to perform his public duties except for posing

like an avatar on a reality program while masturbating

with his tongue

 

a descendent of conquering through division

like the God who is on our side

the family is now past

fear and loathing are core now with a superficial respect

history is revised or erased 

but for whose sake

with whom do we commiserate

 

 position and office operated for personal profit

money for his immediate family’s personal gain

the hedge fund loves money poured into special accounts

and for the rest, well, fuck them

power historically has determined

how the scribes interpret to justify those 

that were anointed 

and the future is ambiguous at best

the family will never be the same

the arrogance of ignorance is infused with the capital

of the owners and their supplicants

 

in the Cosmic distance 

the Messiah was tending to other matters 

the Universe is infinite in design & possibility

and among the seekers there is the knowledge 

“behind the cross there’s the Devil.” *

 *Cervantes. Don Quixote. Pt. i, Ch. 6, ii, 33, 47.