The Sign On The Tree

Reminded me that “This land is their land.”

I can sing all the songs I want proclaiming my rebellion and reclaiming this country for “We, the People,” but you know, I know, we all know that’s

Bull Shit.

Bull Shit, I first thought it in Catechism 60 years ago when I was told, “Only Roman Catholics go to heaven.”

Bull Shit, I thought again when I found out what Kennedy did to those women, to the president of South Vietnam.

Decades after Camelot’s salad was tossed, I read the unredacted record and thought, “Karma was the shooter.”

And, since then?

Fuck me, Jesus.

I can’t keep up with the number of pedophiles, misogynists, snake oil shysters, populists, sociopaths, despots, tyrants, narcissists, sycophants, grandiose, delusional, incompetent and plain ass greedy dip-shits running the show.

Floating to the top on pink cloud promises.

Crying when caught.

Going all Coaster’s “Charlie Brown” asking, “Why’s everybody always picking on me?”

And, Karma, it either believes their sad story or it’s been bought off by These Big Shots.

Bought off for 3to5 Sacrificial Scum Bag offerings a year.

Other than that, the Altar of Recompense is closed.

Today I passed a billboard proclaiming, “Freedom Isn’t Free.”

Bull Shit.