the bully pulpit twaddle

i am an american—the imprimatur of power, panache and a modicum of common sense —
the mighty illegitimate master of meretriciousness—
if i break ground here there is annunciation and caffeinenated twaddle—
would you pass the elephantine hours of derision with me?
can you accustom yourself to my stalwart dependability—the sort of love-in-a-bucket that takes 250 years to baste?

are we recording this?

listen, i grew up in dirt, eating tossed scraps of bread off the sawdust floors—i battled for everything i have—
i was expert at sleight of hand and the misdirection poot—
did someone break wind?

the simple reason the world stays afloat, albeit not a simplistic reason, is because it’s freighted with so much love—
and because i keep that beacon above water

excuse me, it’s time for the high porcelain and plastic throne—
i’m apophatic and apoplectic—
i have a proclivity for uncivil civility—
so let’s break here and hail onto me—
the greatest of all time—a shining city upon …

hold that, what’s this? someone is drilling at my head—there’s too much sin and too much din for me to…
just do as i say, not as i do and you can ride on my coattails—
we’re making the world safe for capitalism!

“We’re from here, he said. We’re Americans. The soldier looked straight through him, and it occurred to me then that in this country it has never really mattered what you are, only what you’re not.”

—Omar El Akkad / “Riverbed”