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A Daily Observer in Bad Poetry

Humor in Daily Life, Politics and Sports

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poetry

The Christmas Bonus

 

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Deplorables 1 Media 0

img_0860The polls opened at seven but the line had already formed

They were there to vote even though the press had called them uninformed

They came from the back woods, small neighborhoods and farms

They were the once proud working class, called deplorables now up in arms

They stood in the cold speaking in low voices

Probably wouldn’t have voted at all given the choices

These were the silent people ignored by the government

By the powerful elite claiming  behind closed doors they were transparent

They had been called racist, sexist, homophobic among other things

But to be looked down on by some soft pious ex first lady really stings

They were broken and bent from years of hard labor and military service

And the fact this person might step on their rights made them nervous

Some didn’t choose to join the military they went as they were drafted

Once discharged they went back to their jobs but VA healthcare left them shafted

They endured the hardships and the cold treatment they received

It seemed like a fixable problem but the wait time for doctoring went unrelieved

The military and home life had taught them with all people to coexist

But now they were called racist and that had them pissed

But they didn’t riot, interrupt traffic, or wear causes on their sleeves

People have a right to their opinion if in the Constitution one believes

This wasn’t a vote of a woman against a man

It was against four more years of a failed national plan

This was against a photo op person in a Cubs hat trying to look cool

When all knew she’d be hard pressed to explain the infield fly rule

She seemed ill at ease in any location surrounded by citizens

As some might not actually share her far left visions

Because these deplorables knew for sure there was no free lunch

So they came out on the cold morning to throw a desperate counter punch

They stood on crutches, in wheelchairs, and leaning on canes

To sign the forms or make their mark in spite of their pains

They couldn’t win, said the press. They didn’t have a chance.

We’ve got it in a walk, lets all prepare for our victory dance.

Somewhere birds are singing, somewhere children shout

But there is no joy in Washington as the mighty Media has struck out

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