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The Merchants Of Trump: Neither A Reader Nor A Writer Be

Academia, is that you? Where are your readers, teachers and writers? Cower not. Now is not the time. Come from the shadows. Make haste! Fair education is dead! Bludgeoned to death by the tongue of a fool. Look, he runs amok. Sullies the seat of your throne. Wake from your stupor and groan. The Senate majority sold, House minority rolled.

You, oh wisest owl among us, your library cards were marked; greatness your return, but lessons seldom learn, by ‘bone spur’ you did burn. Protection of him is framed; scripts written; draft dodged; set your story straight; the bitterness pill, we all must swallow whole, let him play the role, by the people’s poll. At book club chats you preach: “ignore the ‘genius’ out of reach.” But checks and balances bounced, the ass did bolt, revolt, fled the stable’s door, found refuge in old hatred’s sore.

The illiterate’s blood is out. Pride in ignorance reign, books did not refrain. Live on Twitter’s streams; the white kingfisher dreams, at rallying cries he lies, the bait it always flies. “MAGA!” screamed his acquittal, your constitution framed to whittle. Republican rows, all rose and chose, no, none of us will keep it. For fact’s sake, where in hell have you been? What value has a book, if it leads us to this sin? What nonsense seen on stage and screen? Why do you stand, still, deliver the bidding of nothing?

Your nurseries, schools, universities, empty vessels now; sunken ships beneath the seabed bow; regret you took a bough, kissed the ring, of America’s Chairman Mao, so foul. Qualifications plunged, took a nosedive, lunged; the meaning of words, all symbols and sounds, the truth of worth is nothing; the ‘Medal Of Freedom’ rushed, hangs around the Limbaugh’s neck, heck, all manner of sense we flushed.

Constitutional albatross spurned; all manner of silence earned: G.O.P. elephants herd, stampede in Russia’s Senate, House. Of men you made a louse. Democracy, your name is but hypocrisy? McConnell’s bull is China’s shop; Ukraine, for shame, both your wings were clipped, while Erdogan’s Turkey spared; Arabia keeps its head, Khashoggi dismembered, dead; all Kurds were tossed away, in the Russian play; Chekhov mate, Kim Jong-un, he lies in Donnie’s weight. The orange spider spins its web; where is this story’s ebb? This Oval judgement out, more whistles from the spout! ‘“Out, damned spot! Out, I say!”’ Quick with no delay.

Education, lifeless, limp, literacy skills bled out; no white smoke, escapes this chimney’s pout; all words defined, have no reason now; rivers of blood, you forged, by white, by right; by fright; superior beings they always lie, stare you in the eye, you buy. ‘“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.”’ Built from mounting debt, of blood-soaked Middle Eastern sand, you bet. American hands, no mind, their palms were laced, betrothed Trump’s colour vow.

Centuries spent, you mocked the black, the mynah bird; foresaw your castles falling down, moor immigrants in your midst; yet all the while, traitor-in-waiting, was the klan beneath the reddest mist. Superior intelligence dead; cleverness you were led; truth, inveterate lie, will plant you in your bed.

Sources: 'Macbeth' and 'The Merchant Of Venice' by William Shakespeare



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