The finis sing touches touché

Knead dull brows knitted;

belief system I cogitate
gearing thee ordinary bipedal hominid

acquiesces to deck the halls
of the mountain (dew) king with boughs

of sister golden haired
sprinkling angel dust

from cremated remains

in bleak midwinter
unwittingly interweaving pagan rituals

tacitly accepted yet quietly jeered

as anathema to march of the kings,

who instilled obedience or death
which layman forswore, whence his loss

of life or limb as mass of cries neared
resounding like tortured souls

self flagellating their inherent

joy to the world,

whereby unsuspecting cynics among

the madding crowd paired
amidst common everyday folk

beckoning ad lib lip-synced first noel
extemporaneously grafting customs

taught when reared
as just a little drummer

boy/girl pipsqueak, since
straying from mainstream religious

parameters scared the silent night

with unimaginable ogres

on the warpath to smite mortal

man/woman with flaming torches

angering unfriendly beasts tiered

inside the city state panning labyrinth

ready for total mortal kombat
while shepherds watched their flock –

as the latter veered
away from getting fleeced

such as this writer,

who might be lambasted
for verging on the brink

of being sacrilegious and/or weird

after forking over a tidy sum
a million bucks? Not by a far stretch.

Please keep on the que tee i.e. hush

regarding this soupy poetic fabrication

bravely bursting buttucks amucks

thus haint wise to mess wit me
lest cha wanna split high knee
a fate worse than death
with hen whoopsy tipsy
daisy excuse employing
faux pas impairment via this Gypsy.

Diabolical harassing lurked
poised – ready to strike yours truly,
when he obliviously frolicked,
during his boyhood carefree
before the onset of self loathing.

Drunk with knowledge

whither hearing, vis (ideally,
liberal commentators I adore),
asper "NON FAKE") news,
more than weather, latest sports score
or reading, (yes of course
out loud applying index finger de rigueur
of right hand as pointer)

poetically mentioned once before

ditto via select publications

(oh...alright TIME Magazine, The Nation,

and/or Mother Jones) all of which boar
like a mellow red bull at four

after midnight, nonetheless, who decrees

(hmm... maybe ludicrous

to ask Jeeves courtesy deplorable
basket case, but inquisitiveness persists

what body electric discriminates furthermore

freedom of what gets published, or
determines permissible broadcasts

made by Federal Communications Commission

allowing, enabling, and providing galore

of choice morsels pollinating
mass media buzzfeeding popular culture

additionally permitting opinions

shared by hardcore
investigative journalists,
putting life and limb at risk

nonetheless inherent within constitution delimiter

i.e. bureau to censor radical, subversive, more

treasonous than Socialism
with Iron Maiden on tour
must serve as kickstarter

to stifle: tyranny, mutiny,
anarchy, et cetera and shore

up defenses (perhaps in dolled guise of a
reinforced wall) toward those who ignore

codas defining complex edifice of government

trumpeting defiance, uncivil disobedience,
insouciance, et cetera in an attempt to restore

totalitarianism stripping away inalienable
rights of life, liberty and pursuit

of happiness endowed by a smoothbore!