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Writer's pictureTheresa Baxter

Song of Reckoning



Let there be a reckoning

A wrecking ball of wreck in swing

A havoc wreaked on everything

Til Bells of Justice loudly ring!

Tis not that I do hate this man

This man the colour of baked flan

This guy who knows not right from wrong

Who’s conned and duped and strung along

The very folk he once brushed off

That he needs now to haul aloft

His sinking bulk as waters rise

And close around him and his lies

But I do hate the damage wrought

With all the chaos he has brought

Yet even now his lies grow greater

He gathers minions, flunks and haters

It’s not Deep State but rule of law

His hubris is his fatal flaw

His fragile self can barely stand

To realize with his small hands

He crimed and sneaked in such a way

That at his feet the chickens lay

The Eggs of Truth, of Righteousness

He can’t bluff with false piousness

He’s ‘bout to reap all that he sow

As ducks get neatly in a row

And Hope shall, like a carol, ring

With sweet sweet Song of Reckoning!!

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