Look at Joe Biden, doesn't he look chipper today.
His skin has some color, it's not as pale and gray.
He still looks ghostly white, thin as a damn rail
I've seen zombies look better after recrossing  the veil.
Did they recharge his batteries, he's rarin' to go.
He's shufflin' around like he just did some blow.
His charming lovable grin is twisting his face.
Has he finally returned to sanities calming embrace.
His quips are more clever, he yelled at someone to jump.
It's almost like the old days when he knew how to stump.
Whoops! there he goes, Joe's faceplanted again.
He climbs back to his feet with that sh*teating grin.
He does not seem to realize, his tooths through his lip.
He yells, "hang on a second, I'm getting a damn grip"
Suddenly he seems to realize that he's not alone.
He angrily yells over his shoulder, "answer the phone."
Then he seems to get serious, saying, "where was I at?
"Someones going to pay for not controlling their cat"
" I could have been hurt, Doc says no more concussions"
"Let's get back to the matter at hand, no more discussion."
It's not only Joe who's thinking, what the hells going on.
Joe does a quick two step, spins on his heels, poof he's gone.
The pressroom seemed dumbstruck, stricken with Joe.
I guess he went back to the basement, to recharge with blow.
No one was laughing, this sh*t was no longer funny.
It was time for the funny farm for deenergized dummies.
D.L. Crockett -- 7/28/23