Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
But, Hey, No King
The most
lawless ruler is a Man of the People
Posturing upon
some whited balcony
His pouting
lips frozen in a perpetual sneer
While his
toadies cheer their bondage, and call it freedom
The
semi-automatic rifle is their Bible
Barbed wire
is their semi-automatic law
The Constitution
is but the president’s whims
(Let us now pray
for his bowel movements today)
Congress and
the Supreme Court with feet of clay
Await in fear,
in disgrace, in moral decay
For a Murat to
come and brush them away:
“Citizens, you are dismissed.”
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