Post mortemis….. Can angels lie? Or die?

Vaccines against small pox, measles and rabies

Round pills to calm violent schizophrenics

No cure for warmongering mad men

Hating hysterical freedom-loving loud women

Angels in heaven America that do not want babies

Have screwed-up the dying demographic dynamics

Humans of races and creeds are not that beautiful

Eight billion of us, one small per cent could qualify

From which women still have to perfect their looks

Cuticles, eyebrows, lashes and bright red lips

Men cut their beards, hair and muscle their nooks

Not to look like Neanderthals dumb and dark dips

Cave brutes nor brown bears that just awoke

In a world suddenly gone from carnivore to woke

For freedom-sake Orange Donald is vile we testify

A colored woman has to become our damn tool

Homo sapiens becomes LGBTiUSAi bestialis

Mirrors will lie should we be on the wrong side

For we accept ugliness of same with a kiss-kiss

While warmongers do not clean up nor do they hide

Behind afar but lead our world to war with no reason

Accepting them as friends for they hate Trump

That sexist, misogynist, racist, rapist, Real Estate dump

Angels turning to dust, we commit sad treason

The woman was a bit vacuous for blinds not to see

Not very bright though we wanted her to be

At the avenues she proved incapable of saying more

Than diagram of three circles overlap and imagine

What can be unburdened by what has been

Fielding hard questions with vagaries of futile lore

We need short answers to our devastating defeat

Without blaming our own inadequate deficiency

That proves we were wrong because right we were 

Always as the keepers of truth and naked democracy

Excitingly bright, naively shiny and joyful alongside her

Approving faulty beauty and below average feat

The power of the nasty right-wing media 

With a succinct voice and cohesive sharp image

Didn’t speak our long established maximal aura

Our ten times larger mainstream of why we’re best

Hiding our corpses we lied to show Donald is a pest

Destroying our right to know who’s turning the page                 

Blaming the bolus social whole for our dark rage

It’s the fault of the Rupert Monster if we lost

In a nutshell we were pure and our tears are moist

Some confused voters choose Trump and AOC

Possibly half-blind or drunk as one could see

After selling their souls to the falling angels

Under carpets we hid the dust of our rambling babbles

Stars now in shocking tears leave this forsaken land

A writer of pulp condemn the stupid voters’ hand

Biased journalists are being sacked for legacy's tank

Editor of Scientific American takes the bitter pill

But that’s the wrong side of our democratic ill

When good people choose to walk the plank

We will never know 

We do not want to know

How the angels died 

And laughing evil cried

ROBERT URBANOSKI — 17 NOVEMBER 2024