Pundits & Fools

The literate man,

the educated analyst,

had it completely right,


but he couldn’t relate

it to the crowd gathered

around their palms


scoffing at the idea

of reading way too many

finger-scrolls of high-


dollar words “they were

supposed to know!” like

“ideologues and sycophants,”


smart-assed disses on all

the president’s men (and molls).

He didn’t have the balls


to say it straight and call

them “blow-hards and

brown-nosers,” yes-men,


the tin-horn-greasy fucks

clamoring to kiss Trump’s ass

and feather their own beds.


The vines, those climbers,

cling-on-parasites willing to

step on the heads of the elderly


dead and let the poor, sick,

and forgotten copper-tones rot

on sidewalks or in their beds


till they can be deported

or entombed—processed.

Remember Soylent Green?


The Final Solution?

It’s the price people pay

for their own stupidity, sloth


and selfishness, electing

an amoral narcissist to direct

a caravan of fools.


—another one for John Prine

Mark Gibbons

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