The Magician

We have a magician in the White House, a mesmerize, a sleight of hand artist. He is in the process of sawing the country in half, and the audience oohs and ahhs. Barack Obama is a ghostly figure, the product of the teachings of his Communist parents, and every move he makes, every word he utters, is designed to advance the dream of his parents that the United States be destroyed.



Borne by mist, ethereal

The drifting figure grins

By inner light the eyes see all to see

Transfigured, permanent, in place

As all about him spins

He knows just what he is, and what he’ll be

Cocooned in Marxist rhetoric

By parents in whose care

He grows into the child in whom they place

Their hopes for the destruction of

The State beyond repair

Their fortunes wrapped up in his handsome face

He had no great distinction

No accomplishment to date

When he became the darling of the Left

And women swooned to touch him

Though with much to indicate

That he was not accomplished, merely deft

On stage he was so brilliant

So accomplished, oh so cool

That no one saw the handlers in the wings

The lighting and the staging

Were enough to make a fool

Of all who would not see the puppet strings

And so he gained the mountain

Stood atop the world to find

That what his parents loathed lay at his feet

And dutiful a son he was

Attentive, warm and kind

So saying, our destruction’s near complete

The magi dons his makeup

Dons his tux and snaps his cuff

Top hat a rakish angle on his head

He enters from stage left and hopes

The mist is thick enough

To hide the fact the rabbit is now dead

Will the Pressmen ride to save him

Keep the show from going dark

Will the Occupys and Acorns save the day?

Or will hist’ry show November 2012

Will be the mark

That finally closed for good the Lefty play


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