Once Upon a Time - A Miracle
Once upon a time
there was a fight.
The struggle lasted day and night,
my God! it got so tight.
This uniquely ruthless battle,
between “the first” and “the latter”,
upon which I’ll shed some light,
is an unprecedented matter.
Neither combatant were in their prime,
and none of them, held as truly bright.
Nor the deplorable Mad Hatter,
neither the calm and timid Dormouse.
The first “dishonest”, a seducer or a liar.
The latter “establishment”,
with connections strong and tight,
an old man, far too tired.
Whilst a lasting rumor of crime,
carried out from time to time,
clung on to the bad-mannered hatter.
And the one we call “the latter”
resembled, in the eyes of his foe,
a badly worn out tire,
a car that will never be ready to go.
The allegations caused a fire,
barely damped by covid-virus.
Nothing else they had in common
but the generic cries:
What about political visions,
ideas suggesting future days decisions?
Not much of that was told.
As if the old car being sold
was void of steering wheel and engine
(but probably not emissions).
Let me point out “the first”,
not to be misread as a classification,
as one who suffers from a thirst,
an always irritating itch,
that seeks whatever erroneous direction.
That is a certain trait
which has political implications,
but also quite other,
(some say, caused by an absent mother)
From the head of a state
one could expect
the holding of a steady course
– not a running horse.
Everyone in office, in any respect
needs assistance, a professional force.
And these qualified, select,
should undisturbed work behind closed doors.
With a head of a state,
whose inspirational source
is vague and obscure,
and who fails to create
a welded team, able to endure,
the result will be crisis and strait.
This is a definition, clear and pure,
to measure the weight,
of a leader, weak or mature,
that can or cannot
– do I have to mention? –
make a nation,
or whatever, great.
The coming exit of a man
with an orange-colored tan,
who thought everybody was his fan,
got a presidency, whose span
got as short as it can.
This is a tale that provides insight
in matters about wrong and right.
Here was a man they called a clown,
but not the kind that is comic and so nice.
This one represented wickedness and vice.
There was a phrase he loved to use
against people he abused.
That dissonant and hostile chord
turned out to be a double-edged sword.
It was a nemesis disguised,
call it fraudulent
or call it wise.
Along its lengthy course,
it was in fact a trojan horse,
which bitterly surprised
“the eternal president”,
as he thought – “beyond price”
The one consistent trait
in his career, that ends
with failure and debts,
has become his petty fate:
Now we know – he was but a clown,
so mean and low.
The man he called just Sleepy Joe
is not the one who has to go,
’cause the voters had got tired.
This is a story, oh, so sad
of all the fans he thought he had.
Far too many let him down.
Now he sits there, furious and mad.
But whatever trick
that he might find
in his smallish mind,
and maybe wants to pick –
the truth is, which will make him sick:
there is nothing more to add.
Once upon a time,
worthiness and democracy
was put under pressure.
A crook and a slime,
who combined mediocrity,
and willingness to climb
with false virtues and hypocrisy,
a deceiver, not worth a dime.
There was hope for a successor,
who could restore a nation’s pride,
which eroded and almost died
during a four-year-long ride
under an erratic aggressor.
To fight a man who is violent,
unthruthful and cynical,
by being just calm and silent,
confront a self-appointed giant
– some would even say a tyrant –
was truly bold and defiant,
like fighting while you’re chained.
Once upon a time
There was a fight
That left us lyrical
It was like David and Goliath,
and the victory finally gained
– nothing less than a miracle.