Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
But, Hey, No King
The most lawless ruler is a Man of the People
Posturing upon some whited balcony
His pouting lips frozen in a perpetual sneer
While his toadies cheer their bondage, and call it freedom
The semi-automatic rifle is their Bible
Barbed wire is their semi-automatic law
The Constitution is but the president’s whims
(Let us now pray
for his bowel movements today)
Congress and the Supreme Court with feet of clay
Await in fear, in disgrace, in moral decay
For a Murat to come and brush them away:
“Citizens, you are dismissed.”
