A poetic political essay
"Are we STILL being played?"
Are we STILL being played? --
Given the fact that the Malefecent Hilary seems to be getting ready to try to take, what she believes is her deserved "destiny" to be The POTUS, ( stepping in, at the last second, probably during the DNC) for that placeholder, Joe Biden...who obviously was there ( missing brain parts and all), to keep her POTUS seat warm.
I dug up this old write that I thought was outdated , but it turns out to be evergreen. This poem showing how WE, the people are constantly being played like a Stradivarius. My only error, I guess was in misjudging the power of We , the people in 2016. But then, the people misjudging the power of the deep state swamp "establishment", as this poem still illustrates.
And with the poem's reference to a summertime refrain, with the "Muted Trump", little did I know 4 years ago that this would really be referring to a staged pandemic ( that might not even be an epidemic) and its political fallout. (But hopefully the people will REALLY wake up this time , and take more REAL action. Myself included)
So I slightly retitled it, and changed one of the opening lines and added the last line...otherwise... evergreen.
The programme for the 2016- 2020 "election performance"--
Get your programme right here for election 2016- 2020
Welcome electorate patrons (aka Stradivarius) to the big, big show!
for the maestro is about ready to play YOU in the most unbelievable and masterful way.
It matters not what your Maker designed you so beautifully to gloriously play.
Only the results of the "Show" really matter when the final curtain closes on election day.
The orchesta warms up as they rosin up the bow.
Wanting to make sure that YOU are "in tune", as anticipation for the legendary performance grows.
The programme opens and the music starts. And the most fitting of classic overtures begins...
It's a little piece called "Carnival" and the barkers broadcast their deceptive (MSM) carnie spin;
Pushing their wares and money snares,
convincing us that we can win their rigged fake game.
Taking our money while pumping up our hope,
without even exhibiting an ounce of shame.
As the first act opens, and so does the curtain... the first
A single Trump blares out in it's own usual, "brassy" way.
the unsettled crowd, it loudly cheers for this "newly found" nationalistic music to tickle its ears.
The conductor sneers
as he shows disdain
for the audience's most unorthodox disrespect for the globally established way.
Knowing the score,
the conductor, abhorred, pounds his stand
with the baton in his hand ;
stopping the entertainment.
All the while giving the brazen blaring Trump, sitting in the first chair, a most frightening and death wishing glare.
The other musicians squirm in their seats,
and then without hardly missing a beat,
the music begins again.
But now somehow the programme has quickly changed...
seems the audience is now entertained
with a well received Gershwin refrain : "Summertime" featuring... a muted Trump.
The programme continues through it's orchestrated movements:
A cocophony of sound and a few daunty gigues.
Some hauntingly stirring airs, a funeral dirge, and some well timed preludes with a few Vivaldi Seasons interspersed.
Then, a variation on a theme from Sleeeping Beauty. All this then, followed with the point /counterpoint back and forth of some insanely creative inventions.
NOW the crowd is primed and the maestro (aka the "Devil's violinist" ) takes center stage with YOU (the Stradivarius) in his magical hands...
Soon the audience is swooned, as it hypnotically enjoys your first tune, "the Devils trill ". And then finally your mesmerizing rendition of his most famous fantastic caprice :
(noun caÂ·price kÉ?-Ë?prÄ"s
Simple Definition of caprice:
a sudden change; especially : a sudden change in someone's mood or behavior )
And so ...the patron electorate doesn't even care, or barely even notices that the once enthralling Trump was written right out of the programme ;
vanishing into the "Gold, watery" air.
Encore! Encore !
They happily shout, as the witch, Maleficent, takes the stage to collect the maestro's accolades.
Hail, Hail to the chief!
Here is something that refutes much of those insanely "creative inventions." Do people even know this fact?
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