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Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Upper Handustan

Time was, t'was dubb'd U S of A.
Its polies…? All-American!
But that, my friend, was yesterday.
Today it’s Upper Handustan.
The despot there’s a billionaire,
an autocratic Uberman
who swears allegiance to the ban-
derole of Upper Handustan.

What once was het'rogeneous
is, sadly, now homogenous
because Sir Stable Genius
who rules there is mysogynous,
psychotic, narcissistic, racist --
and who sports a tan 
of hues he brews from powder'd traffic cones.
That's Upper Handustan.

What once was call'd America
would welcome Old World tired and poor,
would greet Third World diaspora 
with outstretch'd hand, with open'd door.
DPs now...? Stopp'd. "Halt, Sis! Whoa, Br'er!
You can't come here." (Where's "Yes We Can"...?)
You don't, you'll die...? We couldn't care..."
Yup, yup! That's Upper Handustan.

(More "Upper H" to come: a work in progress)

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