the maven

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic


if you're a fan of edgar allan poe's "the raven", you may like "the maven"....a little poke at donald trump

Submitted: June 29, 2018

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Submitted: June 29, 2018

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Once upon a midnight dreary, sometime in mid January,

Over many a cold, dark pint and channel surf I did explore

While I nodded nearly snoozing, I presume from all the boozing

Came a sight for sure confusing, musing thought with muffled snore

“It is just a dream” I muttered, using sense, and to ignore

“Only this, and nothing more.”

 

Ah, but soon I would remember it was just this past November,

When a sordid man of amber, coloured orange like none before,

Eagerly denounced his foe and with distain he sought to sew

All chaos he could bestow upon reposing laws of yore

For the rare and radiant Orangeman would ignore the laws of yore

Defiant here for evermore.

 

And the mindless sad decision crowning imp, with indecision,

Killed me – filled me with a reeling terror never felt before.

And so now with wide-eyed stare, wrought with dread and great despair,

Weary thoughts and dreams ensnare, as I crouched there on the floor

Only thoughts and dreams ensnare in the darkness on the floor;

Just a dream, and nothing more.

 

Presently my thoughts did wander as my soul began to ponder

How this loathsome, vile being lacking wit, and furthermore;

Donning silken yellow hair, crooked smile and hollow stare

Would befit the role of leader of the nation we adore

I scarce can fathom folly on a scale not seen before

Folly now, and nothing more.

 

As he mounted office throne with contempt forthrightly shown,

Launching slights and screams no mortals ever dared to scream before,

His tone would set the stage, with unaccustomed fits of rage

And dawning now a dreadful age; no hint of common sense in fore

For lacking is the Orangeman common sense, though we implore

Daft and dense, and nothing more.

 

In his circle he’d enslave unwitting souls, this crafty knave

Mindless followed to his lair in guise of underhanded lore

But survival now depended upon how they comprehended

All premeditated musings wrought to aid him and succour

All the intimate investments that he’d worship and adore

Venture whore, forevermore.

So, with clever scheme conceived o’er nations wholly now deceived

Walked in he, smug and grinning from the triumphs he did score

Stood there absent in his cooing while confounding storm was brewing

Knowing not what he was doing on the oval office floor

Heretofore, no hint of wisdom occupies his cranial core

Moron here, and nothing more.

 

Bogus rumours were up heating, so tap, tap he took to tweeting

Tweeting, tweeting like a fiend demanding all the world adore

Every notion, every bluster that his flaxen dome could muster

Absent truth and lacking judgement, nothing less and nothing more

Bad covfefe from yuge dotard on fake news, and nothing more

Integrity lost, forevermore.

 

And so adrift within his mind, intentions wholly to unwind

All guarded thoughts of what may lay beyond the night’s Plutonian Shore,

And we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

O’er great empire now decreeing, e’er fortified these thoughts before

Great empire prized and mighty; by his hand, is now no more

Laughing stock, and nothing more.

 

So blissfully the fool sat lonely, caring not of this, but only

Of what venal act would charm his craving ego all the more

Hesitating then no longer, inner child thus growing stronger

With derision, mocked and baited sleeping foe on distant shore

Goading, nudging “Little Rocket Man” e’er closer now to war

Pissing contest, nothing more.

 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken

Dotard warned of fire and fury, in manner never seen before

Back and forth continued banter not in sound and stately canter

But in fast and faster measure until sense, it made no more

All the world in wary ogle, watched as sense, it made no more

Hollow cries, and nothing more.

 

Oh, but there ‘twas not the end, for common sense he did expend

Whether foe, or whether friend without regard for either or

Spared he not his pompous wrath, on those now steadfast in his path

For, supposing their opposing, they were curtly shown the door

Each with telling story brewing as their tongues were tied no more

No never, nevermore.

 

Adversaries now prevailing in their boldness, now unveiling

Tale by tale, they were assailing against propaganda’s core

And not a day therein conceded to each tangled web unheeded

 Unimpeded, unimpeded breaking down suppression’s door

Subdued therein no longer, freed from wretched media whore

Pompous ass, forevermore.

As the cryptic tales recounted, mustered steam and slowly mounted

Revelations all demanding contemplation all the more

Stood I there somewhat amused, what’s more, exceedingly confused

“What of this?” said I bemused, “tawdry slights, and nothing more?”

“Surely thwarting plans must Maven have, to settle shameful score!”

Quoth the Maven, “Evermore.”

 

Ah, but in the shadows, slyly, cloak and dagger plans grew while he

Scoffed and sneered for he had, wily, prearranged it long before

And selfish gain he thus prepared, with secret information shared

Mounting power and riches on a scale not ever seen before

Surely knew he now, or did he, what the fates would have in store?

Oblivious now, forevermore.

 

For more cunning now and truly, in the shadows shrewd, but coolly

Lay his rival waiting duly, yonder retribution’s door

Pouncing, without prior notice, vengeance raged upon the POTUS

Woman scorned was she, the FLOTUS!  Time to settle up the score!

Mystery and silence broken after all she did endure

Stormy now, forevermore.

 

So, with wrath of tempest ire and raging soul in quest, afire

Unbridled tongue unleashed hellfire, shaking Maven to the core

Every selfish deed unspoken, every scheme now bared as token,

From the heart so cruelly broken o’er greed’s ravenous allure

Ne’er again, as Orangeman languished yonder iron chamber door

Imprisoned now, forevermore.

 

And the Maven, so befitting, unremitting, still is sitting

On a pallid flannel blanket just inside his chamber door

And his eyes have all the seeming of a madman’s that is dreaming

And the lamplight o’er him streaming casts his shadow on the floor

And our hope from out that shadow is rekindled now once more

Democracy reigns, forevermore!

 

 

 

THE END.

 

 


© Copyright 2018 j allan kay. All rights reserved.

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