sonora2sonoma

It’s not at all funny

The way 2020

With all of its strife

Has scrambled my life

And those of my brothers

And sisters and others

Who’ve all felt the weight

Of this season’s dark fate.

Amidst all of this grief

We could use some relief!

The troubles, compounding,

Have all been astounding;

We soon may be rounding

A curve. Oh, the nerve

Of that bastard from Queens!

Would that I had the means

To make him account,

In total amount,

For the lies that he’s spun

And the damage he’s done

To our country! I pray

They’ll soon send him away

On judicial assignment

To a place of confinement

to remain there, forsaken,

his privileges taken,

his schemes all upended

His twitter suspended

His impulses throttled

His awfulness bottled

To set an example

For those who would trample

And trash, while profaning

And otherwise staining

All law, rule and precedent;

The only just settlement!

Let’s dispel the illusion

And end this confusion

Surrounding the notion

That the bilious potion

This man has been pushing

We shouldn’t be shushing.

When thousands are dying

We ought be decrying

The facts of his lying.

We should not be shying

From pointing out boldly

The ways that he coldly

Encourages acts

In the absence of facts

That lead to defiance

In place of compliance

While confirming suspicions

Of people whose mission’s

To alter reality;

Never mind the lethality

Or the certain finality

Of those who fall victim

To such a dark dictum!

The direful modality,

The casual brutality

Of the unsound opinions

He beams to his minions

Will escape their inspection

And enhance their rejection

Of anything factual

Until there’s an actual

Injection of reason

To address all his treason.

To pierce the defenses

And lower the fences

That promote disagreeing

And prevent us from seeing

The path we must travel

If we’re to unravel

The mass contradictions

And overgrown fictions

That have clouded our vision

Will require a decision

To look beyond grievance

And foster perceivance

By those disaffected

Of how we’re connected

And learn to be sighted

In the ways we’re united.

Only then will we see

All of what we can be

When we’ve made the decision

To join in a vision

Free of the grieving

That comes from believing

In the words of the clown . .

That ups become down

And wrong is now right,

Despite what is laying about in plain sight.

Showcasing the dissonance

Of his desperate insouciance

May remind us at last

That his time is near past.

Tim Konrad

December 1, 2020