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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