Venting Spleen - ON WRITING AND RUNNING

I’m venting my spleen
It may be obscene
But from what I have seen
I'm just trying to purge
The urge
To merge
My fist into your face
And let you know the current facts of life
Here’s to you, oh foolish disciple of the great orange moron and his albino sidekick
What a prick
For the fake news zing
How amuse-ing
Hate the Jews thing
Hate the browns, the gays
The blacks
Just ignore the facts
You are the cul de sac
Of human beings
A person whose head
Is so far up their ASS
That you cannot grASSp
Common sense
Hence
You adorn yourself
With a swastika, a Confederate flag
And a white sheet
You bask in your nationalistic ways
And bigoted haze
You raise
Your hand in a Sieg Heil salute
You’re less than astute
So it’s hard to compute
How stupid you are
You’re so concerned
About being burned
By someone
Who has less than you
You haven’t learned
To look up at the wealthy
Who act pretty stealthy
Who obfuscate
And remonstrate
And get you to hate
The poor
The immigrant
The non-pasty white
You’re being screwed
By someone crude
Who’s less than shrewd
An orange grifter
A blobby shape shifter
Who cannot read
And cannot write
He’s not too bright
His whole life is corrupt
He’s spent being bankrupt
Financially
Ethically
Morally
Lawfully
And yet somehow
He’s your savior
Your behavior
Is so beyond normality
That you crave immorality
And brutality
You somehow believe in religiosity
Verbosity
Dishonesty
There’s no comprehending
How you are spending
Your time suspending
Belief from reality
Fiction from fact
It’s all just an act
Your logic’s been hacked
By some foolish notion
That your devotion
To the grift
Will somehow uplift
Your life