The Man Poem by Buxton Shippy

With a bellicose laughter,
The Man,
Muttered a primal viciousness
Draped,
In serpentine vestment,
Feasted on air-borne dusts;
Never once late for supper.

He drew from a reservoir
Of lies and hate.
The Man,
A revisionist from the start,
Avoided the narrow gate.

Looked like a lion,
Barked like a dog.
The Man,
Mustered the Jew Haters.
A klan,
That killed Blacks and Puerto Ricans.

Elusive as ever,
The Man,
Sometimes wears a collar:
White at the neck
But hellish in the heart.