Chapter and Verse: An Ode to Congress (a poem)

The holidays and the end of the year are shortly upon us, yet the United States Congress has taken no further action to provide assistance to the citizens they supposedly represent. In fact, if I understand correctly, they are about to break for the holidays. Either way, it seems they are currently not working on a covid package.

God bless the silt
upon which we stand;

the venerable wreckage
of the Holy Ship of State;

the dreams of immigrants,
burnt and buried;

the land of the free
and the home of the grift;

where seldom is heard
a corroborating word;

and the skies change their colors
every four years (give or take).

God bless our freedom of speech,
that we may say whatever we want
and believe every word.

God bless our freedom of assembly,
that we may bring our tribe together
and infect every one.

God bless our freedom of the press,
that we may have our daily tripe
and enjoy every bite.

God bless our freedom of religion,
that we may faithfully serve our Lord
while trampling His every word.

God bless the pestilence
we have so purposely wrought
and brought upon ourselves.

Hallowed be the halls
where men and women of good will congregate;

blessed be the vessels
that guide them safely home;

barren are the fields
where they do their good work.

(19 November 2020)

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