Trump_Pagliaccio



“Ridi, Pagliaccio …” – “laugh, Clown, laugh,”
So goes the opera, “I Pagliacci.”

We Americans, too clever by half, helplessly are caught in the headlights of the unimaginable antics of our own, (maybe lawfully) elected clown.

America is in crisis. Our Constitution is in limbo. The Clown of the United States has the genetalia of the whole world in his sordid hands.

We are being subverted from the top, down.
Our White House has been converted into a playhouse for a clown.
A rich clown with no conventions
He is obligated to recognize,
His only extant strategy
Is selfishly to improvise.

Going against the grain seems to fit him best.
Distributing mass pain, seems to be his test.

In his practiced of business,
He tended to rule the roost.
“Twas you who got the boost.

He cheated to maximum effect.
Whether he owed you,
Or you owed him,
From court to court you’d trek.

That practice of overwhelming others,
Hehe brings to our nation’s fold.
A man without a conscience
Is dangerous to behold.

But, at the highest oil drum,
Here on God’s green earth,
With power as his fulcrum,
The clown is devoid of mirth.

The only controlling factor
Is the center ring’s little clown car.
But the little clowns all squeezed therein
Merely salute and call him, “Czar.”

Ridi, Pagliaccio…


Curtis W. Long

Curtis W. Long

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