Now Wait One Minute There Buster

All the world – whoever’s heard
of the United States in its cultured,
creative, progressive ways, knows
that the President, like him or not,
is the dude in charge, better know
what the hell he’s doing, breathe
freedom, hold it up, just let it speak
for itself. Well those people, Don-Don,
are no longer open to you, in just a month,
like Cyndi Lauper sings – “True Colors,”
bad thing about it is yours are’t colored,
they’re a very pale, almost ghost-like pale.
You just can’t find the handles inside,
can you, the ones that sets you at the feet
of the 95 year old widow outside Duluth,
who tends her small wood-burner now
that Archie’s gone, and she will recite for you
deeds of her men in wars that spread us
all over the map, and she will tell you that
the people who have a right to the earth
are all waiting, they’re waiting outside her door.
But, if you just ignore what possibly is going on
inside you, you can frolic and leap back into
a long soak in inanity, teenage tricks and profound,
unabated, ignorance. After this job, I hear,
and I know it’s not fake, you’re going to venture
into newspaper work, where you’ll draw in blood,
the headlines of the day, on order from the sub-
administration. You’ll remain mute now,
not purse your lips in either pout or doubt.
I got some news for you, knock out a headline
on this – there is no horizon anymore, you can go
anywhere, but you’ll stay right here, right at the nut,
the solar diamond plexus, the central commotion.
Yah, them? Yah, they all know what you did, and why.
It’s come time, bud, to look at those things inside,
don’t have to confess, we already know.
You want to breathe free, hold a series of meetings
inside yourself - this is who I am, who are you?
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