A poem for the hot air parades ahead and the missed chances we had to prick the balloon.

::::::::

It sucks stars, stuck with the BoomBoom clock

that measures our hours left,

like an egg timer whose sand is nearing Done.

In 2016, the clock said we had three minutes to midnight.

You-Know-Who brought us down Main Street

in his hot air parade, de'classe' clowns, and hoisted

baton twirling bimbos wearing no underwear to the sky,

America is Great Again, not a single mask in the crowd

of Vikings, Disney characters fostered out, feral fools.

The Turd Blossom pageant featured hits of LSD

and no one wanted to return to reality-based thinking again.

Now, after all the damage that's been done

and all the damage that is sure to come,

the clock is set at 100 seconds to Zero Dark.

Humankind cannot bear very much reality

and wants to get in the pants of the first mermaid it sees

(I do not think that applies to me).

All the kids will look like guppies.

Atmosphere.

The Return of Yuppies.

.

I propose we give Trump some comeuppance.

This Jan 6 let's Lefty Up and march on DC

and knock over the fat cops with their coffee crullers

busy reading up on the latest theories on the Covid origins

in scratch and-sniff cartoon panels

We'll spray paint conclusions on the wall

lift up skirts and see what we will see

throw a pig oinking through the hallways

levitate the Capitol Building, beat some snot,

show Mighty Righty the value of imagination,

but mostly disrupt and stop and even light on fire

the ceremonial certification of our banana republicanism

and tell the f*cking felon to ixnay that way

(points toward the Deep State, I mean South).

For better chaos and coup-like activity,

and chicken coops filled with scavenger flying monkeys

made refugees after the Wizard was chased from town,

bringing the latest pearlharbor event -- better that than

the former host of Saturday Night Live

should rule the roost again.

He wasn't even funny and gawd knows he can't sing.

He;s have nothing in common with Zalensky.

.

Jan 6. When they certify who we are. See you there!

Bring your Boston Strong cream pies.

Authors Website: https://tantricdispositionmatrix.substack.com/

Authors Bio:

John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelance journalist and poet currently residing in Oceania.