We watch the body count grow as the dunghill rises. We smell the stench of the ages. We know the familiar odor, the reek of political religious putrefaction. We know the system of bad theater in a porta-potty of smelly Democrats and stinky Republicans. All part of the same golden turd party. Meanwhile, back at the public restroom, not even a courtesy flush. The paper roll is empty. Someone graffitied, No Way Out! Writ on pristine White House walls. Doing a morning constitutional, we waited. We, the people, are their personal toilet. Who will flush it? Where’s the Ty-D-Bowl Man when you need him? The crap will not go down. They’ll have to call a plumber. We require a miracle to cure this billionaire dream diarrhea disease. See you in line at the gas chamber sauna steam room.
Grab the plunger and the pipe plumbing snake. We’ll need backup to tackle this problem. They have poor hygiene in the wiping department. They smear it around like a kid making finger paintings. Rubbing our faces in their excrement. Pissing on the people’s parade. A recent poem by William Moriarty nails it nicely.
THE WORST OF THE WORST
I want to paint a painting,
Write a poem about love—
But the worst of the worst
Make that totally impossible.
Each day they piss on the sunrise
And shit on the sun going down.
They teach their children hatred
Hand them flags soaked in lies,
Tell them cruelty is strength
And silence is loyalty.
Each day they piss on the sunrise
And shit on the sun going down.
They sell the future by the hour,
Discount the past, laugh
at the present, counting
someone else’s death as profit.
Each day they piss on the sunrise
And shit on the sun going down.
Wouldn’t it be fun not to think
About the worst of the worst
With their masks and threats,
All that murderous nonsense.
Each day they piss on the sunrise
And shit on the sun going down.
They pray loudly for forgiveness
While loading their firearms,
Call it order, label it peace,
Call lawlessness necessary.
Each day they piss on the sunrise
And shit on the sun going down.
It was written shortly after the murder of a 37-year-old Renee Good, shot in the face at close range three times by a masked killer, masquerading as a federal ICE agent. Moriarty’s poem is about the American government and their hired SS. She threatened their fragile toxic masculinity. It’s ironic that her last name is Good. The murderer's name is Jonathan Ross, a killer without any remorse recorded on his cellphone after he shot her saying, “fucking bitch.” ICE, under the guise of immigration and customs enforcement, is more likely the impotent cock energy of angry, bitter young white men who feel threatened by everything and everyone that isn’t like them.
They stand for nothing but the cowardly fear of losing their freedom under the illusion of God-given rights. The land of the free? It never was. We can no longer pretend the water closets clogged up with the dregs of big monied constipated consumption. A daily dose of fiber wouldn’t suffice.
A tablespoon of cod liver oil to grease the wheels of the infernal hate machine churns the collective guts of the entire world. History repeats itself like a bad case of acid reflux. Brains starved for oxygen shrivel and wither on the medulla oblongata of spineless minions loyal to the party of one. They cry sour grapes and bittersweet tears of hypocrisy.
America eats itself from the inside out, emanating from the bottom to the top of our failing society’s economic entrails. The law swings on a noose. We have no choice, no recourse whatsoever, except to fight back against the evil tide of raw sewage spewing from the mouths of petty criminals, lawyers, directors, and thieves. These men of God are criminals who hold religion hostage. To serve at the pleasure of the President and to hell with the people.
Eventually everyone will be blind in the land of justice. It’s just ICE. It’s just us. Tooth for tooth, gumming the flesh of those unborn who have yet to suffer. Skipping and hop-frogging toward Nirvana, spitting on our graves. Salute the king of kings and the pleasure in knowing that we shall never surrender to the terror of tyrannical turds dozing upon golden thrones on our dime, in our time.