Ok,
Time to share,
I shouldn’t really,
its really rare.
and rather silly.
But I find the date,
one of seven.
As the Americans are all,
blowing out their bubble.
I shouldn’t laugh,
mum hates him so.
But the Trump overturning,
show’s what the hell I know.
I too thought,
majority.
But a Biden bust,
should inflate the tea.
I thought they’d come,
to the sense of it.
But it seems corruption,
Once complicit – your sunk.
But at the end,
the biggest crooks.
Wielding their power,
behind office nooks.
Gossiping on their media of choice,
revealing themselves so voting is coarse.
Sinking ships following loose lips,
Yet everyone’s eye’s head straight for the tips.
Biden’s bust beats build back better,
Got enough CO2 to drown us in ether.
At least with Trump you took him as token,
that something could be done shown how overfed and bloat’n.
So my dears,
Till twenty twenty three.
Its policy and retraining,
for all you and me.
Scraping a (s)cent,
where there is none.
wasting time,
like its all just begun.
Feels like a recession,
controlled in fact.
Just hope that the weather,
doesn’t take a dramatic tack.
The trouble is,
there is no trouble.
Nothing to write,
No more blowing bubbles.
Just central control,
and goons with guns.
So soon to be slaves,
at recycling dumps.
The artists and accountants,
actuaries and admin.
Will all have to keep it up,
Until twenty twenty four begin.
The sales service support staff,
and main meetings moderating manager.
Might all have to sacrifice someone,
And finding their enemies bit fonder.
Expectations on the rise,
Remunerations for fast declines.
If you cant – step up your game,
Nobody to tell you – lame lame lame.
So oil and acid,
possessions go rancid.
Vinegar keeps,
But life forms freaks random.
Freaks and creeps,
punters and beat’s.
Faith clouds blossom,
Business’s hostile and rotten.
Middlemen fickle,
end up in a pickle.
The insurance pays out,
But now industry’s without.
The overhead creeps,
Things used to take weeks.
There’s features in there,
You’re not prepared to share.
I’ve seen the secrets,
that lay in wait.
The ancients provided,
lets start the debate.
Before the words,
before the sound,
There was only,
grunters around.
They grunted here,
and grunted there.
But grunting was not their,
only affair.
They raped and killed,
tortured and stole.
From anyone anytime,
They were very rather bold.
They collected the horses,
collected the sheep.
Took all the houses,
burned those they couldn’t keep.
Brutal beings,
with brutal dogs.
They wouldn’t walk past,
without accepting their nods.
If you were,
or wanted to be.
You’d better take,
your last word with me.
Because then,
I could take your life,
And join on in,
In a gruntier life.
I wouldn’t have to
explain life love and universe,
Or how it relates,
to get you what you prefers.
Best intentions,
heartfelt apologies.
increasing incidentals,
accepting frivolities.
Yes your patience,
yes your steam,
They’ll be coming for both,
Our stomachs not lean.
So I wont perform,
another verse,
or go under,
mumbling a curse.
We don’t look back,
only ahead.
Until such a time,
when were tucked back in bed.
By the way,
what I’m saying,
That for the time being.
I’ll stick to articulated praying.
That rape and murder,
sounds like hard work.
And I’d need two hundred and fifty,
Just for some arvo lurk. 🙂
Ainny Knyncanpoop