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Writer's pictureClint Haugen

The Blood Moon

My guitar can’t drown out the whispers today.


The republicans here,

they’re pulling each other aside,

and whispering to themselves,


‘Did you hear?

It’s a blood moon tonight.

Tonight is the night

for the red wave.

It’ll sweep the country, no doubt.

We are having a party tonight,

you should come!

That blood moon is no coincidence,

I tell ya man,

it means something tonight.

We are going to win, and win big.

Things are finally changing.

Things will finally get better…’


It’s weird hearing those kinds of words coming from the republicans.


My old roommate sent me a text a few weeks ago.

He said that my ballot was mailed there.

I told him that he could throw it away.

But then he asked me,

if he could fill it out for me,

and mail it.


I said,

sure.


This game,

it’s never felt

like one

that I wanted to play in.


I

just want to

throw eggs at the white house,

and moon the president;

to throw a curve-ball

into their theater.


I’ll just let the crowd choose the politics,

because the crowd knows best,

don’t they?


That’s how democracy works,

doesn’t it?


'Dear Blood Moon,


We put our faith in the fact that we are rational beings,


but


are we?


P.S.

If you could lower the gas prices, that'd be great.'




-C.H.



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