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Commentary by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2018
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Illustration by Christopher Suciu, Copyright 2018
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Who’s Trippin?
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Tripped, tricked and mentally flipped
Hold on, hang tight
Everything is catapulted in a callous haze and diabolical sight
Myths are truths and truths are myths, as lovers and haters clash with pith
On the way forward, history has been
Roped into a lavish can, we are in for a Hellbound ride
Our future is in someone else’s hands, but too small to hold us all
No bell coming your way, cuz’ the only ringing in your ears and brain is from the wicked games you play
Instinct of the invincible is the armor he places on
No bad weather of storms or tears of despair for him
Tip-toeing through the tulips ain’t the way to go
Here comes a damned steamroller eviscerating daisies
Earth’s survival on the scales takes a backseat to insanity
Wising to go back to decades past, when linen was color so pure
Heils replacing hails are becoming the normal fare
In over our heads, we are cluelessly led
Time is a thing that’s never down for a king, for he thrives on platitudes that you sing
Easing along with obliviousness as a he’s hitting his stride
Hands to the heavens in a sinner’s cynical prayer
Over yonder, the contempt for the frog is ever so clear in the cracked melting pot
Under Old Glory, hand to chest in allegiance
Status quo under a Novocain drip of demagoguery
Ease into a coffin of chaos
Who’s trippin’?
First letter holds all the cards, for it is who he is by a million miles and yards
Where ya’ crown be?
He is King of the Swamp Creatures
What’s his delight?
Reality bites!!
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here: http://tonywardstudio.com/blog/h-scott-follow-ruble-road/