All right, so Obama won. Now what? Will he see his re-election as a mandate to install a Marxist dictatorship? Probably not, though I’m sure many of his inner circle, and likely Obama himself, fervently desire such an outcome. Nonetheless, whatever the next four years holds for the country, one thing is clear: no one knows what will happen, or when, or why. The future, as always, is cloudy. Except, of course, to Waltradamus.

 

The Bear will rise

As mischief heightens

Red star at night

Whose passage frightens

 

The turbaned king

With threats and bluster

The pointed star

Will stand to muster

 

The sainted one

Now re-anointed

Vows swift revenge

On those appointed

 

The Eastern state

Of ancient being

With open eyes

Bent not on seeing

 

The Kingly states

Invite the turban

Night riders flit

To rid the vermin

 

Electrons flee

As watts and joules

Rush from the storm

Amid wind howls

 

The workers lie

Abed at night

To look for work

At dawn’s first light

 

At mid-term dance

That shakes the walls

The upper chamber

Sways and falls