Rapture!” @ the Qapitol

CANTO  I.    SWINGING  LIGHTBULB  INTERROGATION ROOM
 
 
When you’re caught and questioned by committee
Say you weren’t there when they sacked the city
You didn’t scream “Rapture!” at the capitol
And you always kneel for anthem ditties
 
I’m supposed to narc remarks to the cops
So they can capture those who won’t obey
I don’t want our friendship to be fractured
But I did not scream “Rapture!” on that day
 
Was the beginning of the Great Reset
On a pleasant day in January
A time of great political unrest
When no one was given sanctuary
 
They defunded the capitol police
On purpose to ensnare alleged oppressed
Perhaps you saw some capitol “Rapture!”
A breach of peace on parade nonetheless
 
It was a constitutional crisis
Putting our fundamentals to the test
The most horrific and atrocious day
In the history of public protest
 
I did bear witness to insurrection
Vast violence the day the country died
Look up my posts and read all about them
My accounts and whereabouts aren’t contrived
 
Some say it was merely a college prank
Others speak of sweethearts taking selfies
But don’t be seduced by that malarky
‘Twas a bloody rampage on the wealthy
 
It was like a zombie apocalypse
Wild animals fled in droves to scatter
Probably aware of imminent death
This is my truth and your facts don’t matter
 
 
CANTO  II.    FAKE  NEWS  CIRCUS
 
 
Standing so brave on his favorite tank
A ray of sunlight beaming through the clouds
President Triumph led with bayonet
Jester scepter to hypnotize the crowd
 
Water squirting flower on his lapel
Wearing clown shoes with spiked cleats on the feet
President Triumph vows to rue the day
They rigged the election for his defeat
 
“The anarchist uprising shall commence
I insist you all trespass on purpose”
“Curse them all, we ain’t gonna march in peace
Cause we gonna waste this fake news circus”
 
The place had assembled with laughs and cheer
Out of nowhere thugs abruptly appeared
And proud boys arrived with nothing to fear
Then the shaman tied a flag to his spear
 
Masquerading in dress covered in blood
Crimson children consume mushrooms and dance
The graffiti on the walls reads “Rapture!”
Mental gymnastics had them in a trance
 
Rabid fetish for ritual killings
The frog pot turns up a couple degrees
Tar and feather tuxedos for treason
The media makes the laws to decree
 
Newsman asks “What’s this “Rapture!” all about?”
Crowd says “Joy from murdering the masters”
“It’s better than drugs and better than sex”
Yet these misfits insist all lives matter
 
“It’s an advocacy for torturing
Leaders who lie to us and steal and cheat”
“It’s blissful killing with skill and finesse
All the while screaming “Rapture!” in the streets”
 
 
CANTO  III.    CLEAN  STREETS
 
 
President Triumph had taken the stage
His followers groveling at his feet
The vox took the soapbox straight to the mob
A salute to purify filthy streets
 
It started when senators left the Hill
And had to double back through the alley
Stalkers pursued these suits pointing at them
Hissing and screaming and keeping tally
 
One senator asleep in a dumpster
Another tied in the trunk of his car
Triggered supporters danced kind of cultlike
To a band donning trumpets and guitars
 
Your Honor, I swear a fantastic scene
Of a statesmen pulled from his limousine
Those monsters took soap bars by the handful
Stuffed them down his mouth to scrub innards clean
 
A statesmen slaughter with a flask of soap
The rebels poured shampoo down his piehole
Gullets of suds and liquid ecstasy
Cleaning up streets and taking back control
 
Out the window grabbed by deplorables
Pretty Miss Havoc was trapped in her lies
Tangled they dragged her to the pillory
Where those goons poured acid into her eyes
 
Her pupils dissolved into plumes of smoke
They mocked her as she withered “Can you see?”
They enjoyed the moment with cigarettes
Snuffed them out on her dead head “Can you see?”
 
These people aren’t impressed with socialism
Becoming insurgents who heave free speech
“We will kill those who kowtow the brainwash
The wicked sheep are no longer asleep”
 
 
CANTO  IV.    SWITCHBLADES  IN  THE  SCHOOLYARD
 
 
The entry to elementary was closed
Recess played on a continuous loop
Teachers feared the fury of their students
Education begone without dispute
 
Parents didn’t fight because of tolerance
Trusting feckless lawmakers to decide
Instruction surrendered for silver coins
Fresh from the mint where the Devil resides
 
The school children were starting to recite
Songs and prayers for the epiphany
When President Triumph reappeared
To shepherd disciples from tyranny
 
Cutlery dangled in his open coat
Duffle bags were filled with switchblades and knives
Those kids had a great time at the playground
Slicing and dicing till no one survived
 
I hope that they can impeach him for this
Triumph’s fingerprints all over the blades
Like he literally went to the schoolhouse
And led those kids on a brutal crusade
 
The next massacre was at the town square
Construction workers concerned some elites
Hammers and saws made for more blood and gore
The mayor drowned in a tub of concrete
 
“Spite for our leaders is an acquired taste
Every plunge of the knife a warm embrace”
“Pulling hair back for the art of the slash”
“Slit your throat, stab your belly, spit your face”
 
Dead bureaucrats littered with fast-food trash
Spattered blood alike temple sacrifice
Scissoring off the ears of dead bodies
“Pass the knife, pass the knife, we will suffice”
 
 
CANTO  V.   BECAUSE  SCIENCE
 
 
Fifteen days to stop the spread soon became
Fifteen days more and then fifteen days more
Exaggerated quandary for slanging fear
Pencil-whip statistics while keeping score
 
Superspreader events could kill grandmas
Or inundate the hospital system
Social justice is safe from the virus
As it discriminates with great wisdom
 
The powers that be used the pandemic
To shutter industry without remorse
Fear of the virus became contagion
Because science communism took force
 
To appease their politician masters
Peasants wore slave masks at the marketplace
Lest these subordinates speak out of turn
Belittle them with the mask of disgrace
 
People caught on to the farce and got bold
Removed their coverings to breathe fresh air
Made a mountain of masks in the bonfire
There’s hysteria astir so beware
 
Politicians pounced to line their pockets
With money robbed from the public coffers
Corporations put fingers on the scale
To transform Mom-and-Pop’s into paupers
 
Elders trade lives with the young suicides
HCQ still costs a penny a pill
Why conflate politics and public health?
Because big pharma wants bills in the till
 
Doctors and scientists are smart people
Yet few accept their everchanging truths
Once you have a virus infinity
You can manipulate the counting booths
 

CANTO VI.    FEAR OF THE MARKETPLACE
 
 
Triumph urinated into the well
Those below felt the reign of his free speech
I saw him point his finger at the kell
The pawns nod when the puppet master speaks
 
It takes a while to warm the killing kell
But once it gets cooking it’s hot as hell
They lured aristocrats and locked their cells
The crew laughed as they burned to bid farewell
 
Miss Fancy was ushered into this tomb
Despite making a house so fantastic
She began to melt with impending doom
Scowls and jowls from a face made of plastic
 
Her skin squirmed and wormed as temperatures rose
Forms crept and crawled as her body erodes
Gummy bear jell hath dripped on her toes
A swelter of chest made implants explode
 
The crowd then spotted Tony Bologna
At the science lab where he makes disease
And employed gain of function expertise
To share with the world whenever you sneeze
 
That brilliant doctor disguised in a mask
Soon led pursuers to a butcher shop
Where they cornered the tyrant of fear porn
Who lied just to make economies drop
 
Despite virus particles in the air
He was trapped and strapped to the meat grinder
“I’d prefer his organs medium-rare”
“Phallic on the side, just a reminder”
 
“Let’s make sausage and pepperoni”
“Let’s bake his elbow into macaroni”
Even President Triumph turned the crank
“I’ll extrude meat paste out of this phony”
 
 
CANTO  VII.    DWELLERS OF  THE  CAVE
 
 
That amusement monkey spewed his malice
Rhetoric becoming of orange man bad
“I implore you all to kill as many
Pedophile politicians as you can”
 
Child after child was being molested
By disgusting creepy men who afflict
The Federales swooped in and hid away
All the evidence needed to convict
 
Uncle Joe hid in his basement dungeon
Cable television news gave cover
Follow the science to sell pandemic
Change the narrative if they discover
 
Sniffing femininity to excess
Placing his hands on too little a dress
Kinky pinky in the cigar cutter
He stutters his teleprompter address
 
They searched every mine for him with pitchforks
Hoisting torches and clubs along the way
We thought they captured him in a cavern
But slippery Uncle Joe got away
 
Not all was lost as the children were found
Before dynamite ignited the caves
Born to satisfy all freakshow pleasures
Secretly bred in dens to be sex slaves
 
Merciful churches became complacent
Worshipping fake science for compliance
The secularists exploited this fact
Grooming the adolescents in silence
 
They turned kids into a commodity
Superintendents sent to the gallows
Those games playing donkeys and elephants
Who peekaboo touch you in the shallows
 
 
CANTO  VIII.   SCALES  OF JUSTICE
 
 
People brought jerrycans to the rally
President Triumph supplied the matchbooks
Kindhearted masses carried their gases
Skewers in hand looking to cook the crooks
 
The justices took bribes before the ink dried
They sold their souls thus foreboding their fate
They distorted their torts notwithstanding
So the horde boarded windows and chained gates
 
As President Triumph posed with gavels
They chucked Molotov cocktails into the court
Punks toppled a bust of Lady Justice
The columns tumbled from smoldered support
 
Knobs jostled desperate attempts to open
You could see fingers underneath the door
Supreme screams were waned by suffocation
An execution on the courtroom floor
 
In public courtyards their case unraveled
I reckon they simply ran out of time
Rage mobs poured fuel on big piles of tinder
The courthouse ablaze a sight so sublime
 
President Pittance wearing his mittens
Smirk in his co-chair certified the vote
A legion of voices disenfranchised
So threatened and browbeaten by the woke
 
Just as Pittance was about to announce
An infest of pests bore out of his head
Flies, fleas and lice danced dapper in his hair
Metamorphosis into the misled
 
Against the kingmaker of monikers
Sum of all evils that creation spawn
Party complicit to help rig the vote
Anything needed to ouster him gone
 
 
CANTO IX.    RAPTURE  AT  THE  CAPITOL
 
 
President Triumph patron saint of cash
Hoodwinked his livestock into escapades
Cocksure in his rants to summon anger
Radicalizing minds into dismay
 
Capitol glass breaks by surprise attack
The gang pistol whipped some poor delegate
So quick to unload the machine gun fire
Assassinate with class and etiquette
 
Bullet holes puncture loyal lobbyists
The capitol riot starts to unpack
Shooting the dead extra times in the head
Huge panic ensues escape out the back
 
Leader McTurtle fastened his girdle
Hiding underneath a banquet table
Watching crowbars crack crowns into fragments
The destruction was something of fable
 
Wishing he had already retired
Safely living clandestinely offshore
Found wearing his double-breasted turncoat
They nabbed him and put his face to the floor
 
“No doubt that fusspot’s getting a curb job”
Teeth to plaster and mouth about to splay
His dentures popped out as he spun about
Rolled under the floorboards and got away
 
She wheeled a cannon into the chamber
Was slain for being a pain in the neck
She had to die for the propaganda
Fundamentalist deaths are so grotesque
 
The Feds found exactly one million shells
Sixty-nine rifles and sixty-nine rods
The Feds found the rotary gatling gun
That was used to kill the rest of the squad
 
 
CANTO  X.    ALPHABET  SOUP
 
 
When President Triumph flipped on the lights
It revealed cockroaches in the kitchen
Red ones and blue ones by the cookie jar
People could now confirm their suspicions
 
He exposed all the ties to the deep state
Corporations colluding on a whim
He divulged all the fraud and corruption
Which is why the movie stars despised him
 
The schizophrenics were right all along
To think we used to lock them in closets
Songs so complex ‘twas dismissed as madness
Unaware of these modern-day prophets
 
They’re right about the illuminati
Correct about the shadow government
Spot on about the fly on the wall and
Recorders disguised as pieces of lint
 
The state of our land is a house on fire
People passing wet buckets hand by hand
Others are eyeing paintings on the wall
The pawnshop claims silver is in demand
 
The media creates the perception
The perception is built on dirty lies
The lies come from murdered journalists
A murder of crows pecking out their eyes
 
There is no media credibility
Delusions of grandeur amidst the group
There is no media transparency
Alphabet news becomes alphabet soup
 
The beautiful people on commercials
Say revolution is like a cartoon
But the silent majority laughs last
Rejoicing with “Rapture!” that afternoon