Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Druthers . . .

Good people called it black
He says it’s white
They said he never would
He said he might
When will it end

Out of the question seemed
Prospect to be
Taking it seriously
Not you or me
Like make-believe

Who could foresee it
Who had the crystal ball
Undo bit by bit
Without one clue at all
Without decorum
Without a principle
Without a common decency to others
Need my druthers

Malice and arrogance
His stock and trade
Simply his character
Born with or made
Nature or raised

First thing and foremost in his mind
Ever so clearly appears he

Time now is way past due
Things have to change
Longer we let it go
The more he’s deranged
Give him his due

©20179 Raymond M. Jozwiak