Sunday, April 7, 2019

day EIGHT HUNDRED and EIGHT



Pennywise

Space and time – dense
as the man with little hands
big tie, suit made in sweat
shop, the grotesque comb over  
whisps of hair of ever changing
color, pre-fab teeth, fake tan
fake man shreds the constitution
as if a f-5 tornado, destroys moral
fabric as a runaway wrecking ball.

In the wake of this destruction
he peers out at us, the plastic
smile, as Pennywise the
dancing clown from the sewer
of his mind.

Never ending corruption dwarfs
Teapot Dome and Watergate
the rich get richer while this
snake oil salesman spins tales
of support for working people
who pay more and more
while he sits on his gold throne
in his tower of babble.  

Nightmare continues as nation
judders, divide by design. This
will end either by the bright
light of freedom or in the
sewer gas of despair.

--g e reutter


g emil reutter is a write of stories and poems. He can be found at:  


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