Preface linkedin with My poem for -The event

titled “Trump, ICE, and the Burning Planet

Approximately two score plus years ago,
one prescient poet of Perkiomen Valley
id est me didst intimate
worse case scenario for
the 2024 presidential election
which marked the 60th quadrennial
United States presidential election.

Shortly there after many Americans
would abhor the forfeiture
of hard fought and won liberty
whose Project 2026
the mega blockbuster
tome doubled up
as a door stopper
maintaining as suitable obstruction
disallowing ingress of secular humanism.

America - this nation
would no longer remain
the land of the free only so long
as it is the home of the brave
courtesy a local Indiana man,
one named Elmer Davis -
(1890-1958) was
a journalist and broadcaster.

He worked for the New York Times
from 1914 to 1924.

As nightly news analyst
for CBS (1939-1941)
he had an audience
of 12.5 million viewers.

Roosevelt appointed him head
of the newly created
Office of War Information (OWI) in 1941.

Most likely long hours,
maybe even days or weeks
after most contentious election
witnessed within the United States
after voting machines satisfactorily deployed
(meaning at long last contender identified)
once winning candidates declared,
EVMs again kept inside the strong room
and the room locked and sealed,
which again done in front of candidates
or their representatives,
plus prophetic signs taken as well.

I don't wanna be stayin' alive
come Tuesday, November 5, 2024
particularly if the presumed winner
as forty seventh president
none other than antithetical,
despotically, egotistically, fanatically,
heretically, impractically, lunatically...
oafish hull windswept orange
and yellow spray-on
hair dyed, coiffed,
and barb burred septuagenarian
whose tidy quasi toupee
looks like a foreign raccoon
migrated onto his head.

Cuz the death knell of democracy
willfully, woefully tolls
all across the webbed wide world
because Joseph Robinette Biden Junior,
whose insistence to remain in the drawing
drew droves of electorate to the polls,
handing victory margin,
whereby countless elephants
trumpeted far and wide
affecting a Republican landslide.

Impossible mission to keep doors shuttered
over subsequent pandemonium
to hear donkeys braying,
bobbing, and babbling
doleful "hee-haw" sound,
not because their tails pinned incorrectly,
but rather courtesy yes
screaming fans of Mötley Crüe,
(that Doctor Feelgood could not cure)
sparking seismic activity equivalent
to a 9.9 magnitude earthquake
(so take that Taylor Swift)
deafening roar that rocks the crowded house
ushering bono fide pandemonium:
the name stems from Greek pan,
meaning 'all' or 'every',
and daimónion, a diminutive form
meaning 'little spirit', 'little angel',
or, as Christians interpreted it,
'little daemon', and later.

The aftermath of a Biden loss
(not just him - and his coterie
being called "loser"
the rest of life),
but would be a field day among
die hard Republicans,
and even some renegade Democrats
that would cause
the Grateful Dead to become awake
turncoats that would find
lovely bones of Benedict Arnold
rattling and humming with U2
courtesy hullabaloo quintessentially
branding, hashtagging, vetting and
rocketing nonestablishmentarians
as political outcasts
forcing an aging long haired
pencil neck geek such as yours truly (me)
forcing us (socially conscious voters)
to forage as a foreigner alienated, ostracized,
and penalized on another planet
survival incumbent upon
the outer limits of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows morphed,
jump/kickstarted, exaggerated
into monstrous shapes
along the edge of night,
which spooky, haunting,
ghastly, eerie place
more appealing then
than prospective tragic loss of freedoms
such as life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness.

Now the meat and potatoes for
My poem for - The event,
titled “Trump, ICE, and the Burning Planet

ICE spy unprecedented seat of pants dominion
wantonly trumpeted from same POTUS
dittoed numbered forty five and forty seven.

Trump at the forefront of an all out assault
upon the two hundred and fiftieth founding
anniversary when the concept of No Kings
(issued courtesy the first notable bell
to ring for American democracy)
hashtagged the Liberty Bell
(then known as the State House bell)
housed in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,
which tolled (and told time and place
of freedom, albeit limited) in the tower
of the Pennsylvania State House
(now Independence Hall)
on July 8, 1776,
to summon citizens
for the first public reading
of the Declaration of Independence.

Inchoate pioneer spirit
annulled the omnipotent bond
chomping at the bit
videlicet British suzerainty
courtesy the forefathers
who revoked British hegemony
and declared American independence
collectively known as the Founding Fathers
and historically, these leaders
predominantly part of American elite class,
often described as landed vested gentry
or merchant class in the colonies,
which group included wealthy landowners,
merchant elites, plantation owners,
and professional lawyers
well-educated and, in many cases,
part of the existing
local political structure
whereas yours truly
if alive at that time,
I would most likely
being slaving away
as an indentured servant
allotting whatever sparse
leisure hours available
to read and write (poetry)
courtesy cribbed hand printing
since high or
even slow speed internet
(or a rudimentary
similar facsimile thereof),
would possibly be tickling
the fancy "jack of all trades
original phrase - often better
than a master of one"
someone like Benjamin Franklin,
a polymath and
self taught academician,
whose wise sage proverbs,
(whether he abided by them or not)
stood the test of time.

No doubt little or no fanfare
for the common man
gave absolute zero notion
to keep up with the Joneses,
especially those hamlets
sparsely populated and one could arise
breathing fragrant air
redolent of Appalachian Spring.

Then as if out of thin air
a phalanx of men lugging ice picks cometh
out of the blue and into the black
where the young kneel

in obedience nevertheless,
they get sucker punched and horse whipped

before getting engulfed
by the encroaching wildfires.