The Red Death

Edgar Allan Poe wrote a short story titled The Mask Of The Red Death, in which Prince Prospero ordered up a masked ball for the elites while the Red Death raged through his kingdom, killing the populace in horrible ways. Poe wrote this short story in 1845, and It is now coming true in the person of the most radical left red politician ever to be elected president of the United States. Obama is Prince Prospero, except that Prospero did not summon the Red Death, and Obama has, and like Prospero, Obama will not see the end of the dance, for the American people now see Obama for what he is, and will reject him utterly.    



Prince Prospero has just announced

A ball, with gaiety pronounced

And wit and lively music for the dance

While through the land the red death roams

As people lose both jobs and homes

And liberty and freedom have no chance

The Prince has turned the White House rooms

Into the shades of flowered blooms

With blue and green and bright red colored walls

In costume dancers swing and sway

And drink and laugh the night away

Don’t go into this room. Prospero calls

Into the ball there comes a wraith

Who says we must have hope and faith

A place of worship, holy prayer and grace

The features of the wraith are black

His costume torn and tattered sack

With blood and terror written on his face

He strides with arrogance each room

Pronouncing all will meet their doom

And strides into the room now black and red

Prospero follows in his wake

Apology he needs to make

But when he sees the wraith the Prince falls dead

And so it goes with those who dance

And think the Left a true romance

And being nice and bowing to the foe

Is just a sign of gentlemen

Who do not see the moment when

The red death is upon them and they go



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