Two men enter
one man inside
two men leave
one man dies.
Democracy wakes on
a crisp fall morning,
heads outside with
a steamin’ cuppa joe
stops at the wood pile,
selects a nice four by four;
it’s time to whack the people
upside the head.
The Parole Board,
recently fitted with shock collars
turns thumbs up,
but Der HairenFuhrer
ain’t havin’ any o’ that;
his finger hovers
above the remote.
He stabs the button and
in a swirl of spasmodic jerking,
their thumbs swing down.
Halleluiah choruses
echo from the capital dome;
the dry look has saved the day
once again.
Thank heck
for mindless automatons;
were it not for the
icy ones and zeroes
sluicing through their veins,
who among us would
make a sound decision?
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