With a bellicose laughter,
Muttered a primal viciousness
In serpentine vestment,
Feasted on air-borne dusts;
Never once late for supper.
He drew from a reservoir
Of lies and hate.
A revisionist from the start,
Avoided the narrow gate.
Looked like a lion,
Barked like a dog.
Mustered the Jew Haters.
That killed Blacks and Puerto Ricans.
Elusive as ever,
Sometimes wears a collar:
White at the neck
But hellish in the heart.
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Comments about this poem (The Man by Buxton Shippy )
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