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Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2018
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Even after bald-face lies about Rep. Fredericka Wilson and musing about Dreamers being lazy asses; John Kelly still receives reverence in being given the hallowed presence of constantly being called General Kelly. For me, it seems the journalists calling him that are always giving a false salute of his past glory. As for the present, he is just the CIVILIAN White House Chief of Staff John Kelly. No higher or lower than any other person who has held that position.And, with that Mr. John Kelly has fallen at ease in Honor’s Retreat. And, for those who say, that Kelly is the adult in the room to bring discipline to the White House; I say that is a joke.
Oh, don’t get me started on plans for that military parade, cuz’ I surely don’t want to throw too much shade.
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HONOR’S RETREAT
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Honor’s retreat
Oh, yeah
It can be beat
Honor whistles past Arlington
Reputation relinquished for false prophet of patriotism’s need
Proclaiming protégé of being a man of integrity
Even as dirty deeds of the past have been teased in the spotlight
Porter’s supporter feigns ignorance of who this secretary truly is
But, what do you expect when wrong is stroked as right
We need the Honor Whisperer to show us the light
Too damn bad that dishonor has become wed to this plight
Yet, Honor retreats once again
Make me a parade with pomp and pride
And, of course make damn sure my enormous missile glistens for the satellites above to see
Honor’s retreat all the way it’s gotta be
What was normal before has gone far, far away
Verbal sparring and belittling of those who are beneath the platinum plateau
From lying about Representative Wilson to yakkin’ about lazy ass Dreamers, the smearing of civility grows
Is Honor in the house of white anymore?
Retreated and reloaded for the March of the Righteous to be led
General you were before
Now, just Mr. Kelly is who ya’ are
Not so different from ya’ boss
Honor’s retreat is propriety’s loss
Duty has become doody, as the Tantrum Toddler sits in his high chair
Common sense has become like mercury, slick to the grasp of a stillness of serenity
Once upon a perch of what was saluted with solemnity, as faltered to shallow
Hallow transforms to hollow, as the tightrope snaps – and Earth is left without a net
Honor’s retreat is decorum’s defeat
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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/