The Defense of Production Act

It’s like everyone’s sick,

Or undead,

Barely living

Just breathing

Deceiving

Themselves

To forgiving

Forgettable

Unfair elections

Regrettable

Methheads

To offset injections,

Untenable

Debt ceiling heavens

And credible threats

Weaponizing infections

Depressions

Far Greater

Than history lessons’

Most glaringly obvious

Tact of oppression’s

False flag

To enact

The unlawful tax bill

By the black-citing,

White lying

House on the hill

And a fact-averse

Bad actor

Labor unskilled

Like a fascist mask

Slash and burn

Axe in Brazil

The fell deeds

Felling trees

With the breeze

In his speech

Still releasing the kraken-like

Corporate state’s

Global outreach

Over-preaching

Beseeching

The sheepish

To carry on sleeping

In late

And en masse

Do not gather

But rather

Look past

The gas chambers

Aghast,

Past the neighbors’

Kids torn

From their safe passage

Grasp

And the captor?

Another disaster

Enraptured

The market crash,

Mattress cash,

Ashes fall after

And then comes

The blast from the past

When the master,

Producing mass slaves

Can not sell them their own

Waking graves

Any faster