The Only Political Poems I Will Write At This Time, 2

The great, symphonic orchestration

of our ancient, and yet troubled, nation,

does not need what Saint Paul called "sounding brass."
Let us, as one, vote out each horse's ass

epsecially each one who plays the Trumpet

(those who do not like this can just go jump wet
into a lake).  Some few will say, "Alas!"

as on that morning of November Forth,

voices from East and West, and South and North,

will shout in triumph, as one chorale, choired
upon those words of great relief, YOU'RE FIRED!



Author's Notes/Comments: 

I hope the boldened words in the last line will reappear as the headlines of every newspaper on the morning of November 4th, 2020.  That will be almost as great a celebration as the Fourth of July!

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