by Esther Greenleaf Murer
The country’s on the brink of doom.
Surely this doesn’t need to be said;
what I shall assume you shall assume.
Our course is clear: we must exhume
the founding fathers, the hallowed undead.
The country’s on the brink of doom.
There’s every reason to fret and fume,
so start your fuming, you slugabed!
What I shall assume you shall assume.
Get out there and consume! Consume!
The mall’s where all true patriots tread.
The country’s on the brink of doom.
We’ll sweep away with a brand new broom
each pinko liberal pointyhead.
What I shall assume you shall assume.
Rev up your ATV, vroom vroom!
Your Uzi makes you a man to dread.
The country’s on the brink of doom.
What I shall assume, you shall assume.
Esther Greenleaf Murer lives in Philadelphia. Her poetry has appeared in the New Verse News and numerous other places. She was the featured poet in the February 2010 issue of The Centrifugal Eye.
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