Trumped Up Election

The establishment fist waved about,

Sophisticated with lots of clout,

And a mouth saying any kind of thing,

Often with a prejudice type of ring,

Between mouth and fist the people stood,

Looking to find right and path of good,

Fist was known, so familiar to some,

It was glued tight to where it had come,

Okay Fist lied many more than once,

But it was no political dunce,

And the mouth was offensively lewd,

Crossing polite lines of rude and crude,

Between mouth and fist the people stood,

Looking to find right and path of good,

But no, there wasn’t light to be found,

And so they searched in the profound,

Offered as change, perhaps it lay there,

The mouth surely promised it knew where,

However rude, the people took that chance,

Change, the step in a new kinda dance.

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