Let us bear witness to arm and blindfold...

each candidate for president of United States
and therefore witness a duel (to the death)
between Biden and Trump to determine
who occupies Oval Office as forty seventh
Chief executive of the federal government.

Since both the Democratic and Republican contenders
for prospective commander in chief offer pathetic odds
evening the prospect of the latter or former winning an
unequivocal fair and four square bilateral contest firing
a gun after being positioned back to back, then counting
of so many paces before turning around and facing off.

Neither combatant could be identified, cuz head to toe
bullet proof vests would encapsulate every square inch
of vulnerable flesh rendering incognito dead giveaway
characteristics, and a wig would don their numbskull
at a given signal communicated thru bluetooth headset
high powered firearm cocked and raised ready to aim
at opponent instantaneously caught in the crosshairs

premature ejaculations punctuated sound of silence, a
mortally wounded wimp versus over stuffed ego freezer
also suffering a fatal shot as madding crowds roar with
deafening frenzied ballistic approval atavistic gone ape
primal screaming decreeing spoken explosion of anarchy.

All hell broke loose likened to burst dam where humanity
witnessed annihilation into balkanization into capitulation,
disintegration into evisceration, into factionalization, into
horrification into insubordination into jubilation, liquidation
into militarization into nullification into obliteration into
promulgation, radicalization, tribulation, and veneration.

Suddenly out of bedlam deft ferocious hoodlum jump/kick
started linkedin nationalistic predation rebranded travesty
vocalizing xenophobia zealously attracting craven egocentric
gambling inimitably kleptomaniacal, mercurial, opportunistic
quixotic, sensational uber wordsmiths reductio absurdum
expostulating non-sequiturs endowed with hidden wisdom.

 

Though ordinarily a non violent (unrepentent punster to boot)

amazingly graceful aging hippie even while in utero I played
role of embryonic peace monger – marching within the womb

despite the cramped quarters, especially as I got closer to term

and occupied avast area of the uterus, my mother participated

in numerous rallies exposing me to socially progressive events

no surprise when yours truly babbled on about revolutionaries.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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