Back Door Uncle Sam
Santorum, Perry, Bachmann, Mitt...
Who could ever give a shit
if all these store-bought
Candidates were sold
and hauled away in crates.
With blow of Cain
and 'I' of Newt
We've sealed our country's disrepute...
The time to vote is fast approaching
But don't you throw a fit
The GOP and the SOB's
Don't have the back door chip.
Obama's got the very top
The man with the second Reg.
So when they count the final vote
They'll take the final pledge.
Now please don't cry citizen Kane
Why lament the death of democracy
It was all a ruse by the men in suits
Next year we become a theocracy.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Back Door Uncle Sam by Lynne FincherSpringarden )
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