The Same Guy Who Threw Up on Himself at the Lincoln Memorial

A poem for Monday the Fifteenth of June

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The Same Guy Who Threw Up on Himself at the Lincoln Memorial

Is the Next President of the United States

Visit Polymarket to place your wager now

You could

be a winner

But you won’t

You’ll sleep with the fishes

the mob is on the lawn

Everyone here is a man except this misshapen clay

mud

This man,

the false Prophet Joshua

who, it is said, did not come out of a womb

but a trashcan

T-rex Tryin’

It was a beautiful day at

the trashcan

this shit-hole country

Remember what Malcom said

This is what I say:

It’s a miracle now if you live to 50 in America standing on your own two feet and know how to read

In the ring, when

the fury shrieked St. Michaela’s name,

millions of the dead rocked back and forth

all over Mesopotamia

and Palestine

The ones the Americans murdered have a ghost laugh.

And all the dead in the dead

prairies and the dead

provinces and dead

coasts at home.

Starved and sick in fields of gold. “I wonder what

the poor people are doing today.”

Every time the dead girls laugh, another American turns

to cinder, stone, yesterday

cigarette butt

We’re getting everything that’s coming to us.

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