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Rated: E · Poetry · News · #2315944
The love for people might survive - not sure about the people - a rhyming poem.
Falsehoods and lies, morosely tuned ballots -
Ridiculous harvests, this era makes lots -
Evil’s seen lurking, compensatory shadows -
These virulent skies, a supreme being sows.

So wrongly accused of gross saturation -
These hellish devices bring forth isolation -
Groups hide in earnest, recover from losing -
Donald and Hillary, now voiceless and boozing. 

The purest improvements are having some faith -
The Hall’s guarantor, from the Naismith to Namath.
A few pretty pictures, for sure, appear void -
Artistic endeavors - some might be destroyed…

Forgive fans appreciating drama’s set license;
Anointing the funeral’s an extreme leads’s defiance;
The vikings and romans are breathing the curse -
If the veil becomes lifted - things likely get worse.

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