Remulins tout
their only emblem
a senile demented old man
governor from the pathetic land
of _fornication
who had an old witch
for a wife
and a child
that rejected everything
the old fool did
because he was not right
they validate themselves
the jesters they are
by concocting percentages
based under premised fallacies,
not even a dishonest lawyer
would dare believe
but they pound and compound
confounding their own misguided wrong
to the point of belief
in a kingdom of crowns
conviction in fantasies -
confusion arguing itself into standing
alone
in the middle of quicksand
where they scream
'entitlement be damned!'
as ankles sink
deeper into sand
grasp they will to hang
onto their nothing,
faith
under something
a mysterious guise -
'we all can win, because we are Right'
all coated copper-clad to the Right percent
and others less fortunate are little more than wrong
standing naked in streets
with cups outreached
to all those with one hundred million more
then their god
all wise and good
will ever let them keep
this illusive evasive
tail we seek
is the fool we are
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