Mushroom Sombrero,
Immigrant Piñata,
Mucho US Susto
bearing only Al-Mata.

Fed purely on shit
then hit with a stick,
they bleed dollars when split
the voters love it.

It’s a Game of False Thrones
reigned over by clones,
who stretch skin on dead bones
and bomb babies with drones.

Tsunami Invaders,
displaced Temple Traders,
Pregnant Horses of Troy
come to feast on our Joy.

Under flip flops and blankets
they shield fragile hope,
while the State prints out pamphlets
and readies the rope.

Bring us your tired, your desperate and poor
who gasp to breathe free outside the gold door,
and we’ll mock as they fall and claw at the wall,
A colossus of freedom grown deaf to their call.

© Wolfgar 2018