Birds of a Cuckoo’s Feathered Nest

Dim Dubya said the future’d prove him right
so judging him must wait until he’s dead
which puts some pointed teeth into the bite
of claims that he has nothing in his head.

For whispers softly entering his ears
come out his mouth with little amplified
and what goes in his eyes soon disappears
with no connection made to lights inside:
a starless void through which no echo steers;
a slope down which the changing stories slide;

a lifeless bulb left plugged into a lamp;
a disconnected battery that died
for never charging up a single amp.
A Failure — present judgment certified.

Successor presidents have also lied —
and predecessors, too, as bad or worse —
so easily that few have even tried
to tell the truth. What for? The White House curse

extends to each and any mortal soul
who thinks himself “Commander” just because
he finds himself atop the greasy pole
in spite of anything he says or does.
His owners who have placed him on the dole
determine what he is and who he was.

So Dubya, Barack, Donald, and now Joe
like Ronald, George, and Bill fan Empire’s flame
until the eagle looks like roasted crow,
at least to those who see beyond the name.