Tuesday 1 November 2016

Pome for the election

Donald! Donald! tyger bright
Panther prowling through the night
What infernal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful oratory?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt thy burka melted eyes?
On what whims dare he aspire?
What the voter seize the fire?

In the land of sanguine woe -
Could forge the plastic GI Joe
Could fetch it from the furnace deep
And in their horrid ribs dare steep
And keep or worse Guantanamo?

In what clay & in what mould
Were their eyes of fury roll'd?
And what anvil, what black art
Could twist the advertisers heart
What the ghost? & what the flea?
Dare paint thy false democracy?

And what hammer? And what chain?
Could fire the forests of thy brain?
And when thy heart began to beat
What dread hands! on what dread meat!

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered Clinton's Joker tears
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the clown make thee?

Donald! Donald! tyger bright
Panther prowling through the night
What infernal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful oratory?

1 comment:

  1. Timely and scary. Now we wait and see. The outlook grim but writing, as ever, wonderful.

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