Nothing much happened for several days
regarding the Capitol situation, causing
many jaws to open and close rapidly,
laryngeal strings to rattle.
It goes in ear
it comes out air.
Teef snicked and tongue
padded, whistled, tunnelled, skeltered
to the media in endless variations of
a few sound bites and euphemisms, stuff-
-ing at which we sagely nod or round-eyed
sigh at - to think it came to this.
We have a few more movies of the hicks,
as hot from the pen of Gilbert Shelton,
entering the hallowed chambers.
Where're
they awl? Where's Nancy? Where they gawn?
Heck. We may as well set up a government!
'Warning:
Graphic Content' (Graphic what?) The divil
sitting on Congressional Throne? A few fcuks
on the echoey soundtrack? The disappointed captor,
with his plastic ties, suddenly all overcome
with awe, telling folks these ain't their seats?
The ineffective officer wearing his mask
fascist cavalier style, stupid nose poked out
feebly remonstrating,
'Oh, sit not on the throne,
for, verily, it is the hallowed place no farts
must vibrate butt from appointed cracks.'
At which the QAnon Shaman sits and out-
trumps Trump.
OK, I drift in fantasy a pinch.
But not lost down a big black hole in head,
where truth lies twisted up Trump's leaky ass,
like an old typewriter scene from 'Naked Lunch'.
Ex military and ex police, Nazi heavy metal,
jerks and thugs, Covid-brained, smelling
of stale sweat, and ruined adrenalin: "Hey!
Ted Cruz would want us to do just this!"
muttering as they sporadically rifle through folders
and notes (This one's with us!), hoping to happen
on something fcuking amazing, till intention span
yawns into boredom and listslessly they move on,
scratching their heads and arses.
Shaman brays
about a prayer, and so the rabble align and bray
with him, shambling behind the throne, fingers spread
to Gawd as he'd approve their jackass lunacy.
..........................
