Who’s The Big Player

His brow deeply furrowed, his thinking cap on.
He looks like the Thinker, with half his brain gone.
His thoughts were perverted, his methods insane.
Pursuing his special purpose, he believes preordained.
No one sane could follow him, no one even dared.
From afar they kept tabs on him and often despaired.
Despaired of his actions, longing for the past.
Praying his fate would catch up at long last.
He had his minions, whose spirit he’d broke.
Every day losers, who claimed to be woke.
They believed all his mandates needed fulfilling.
To do his bidding they were more than willing.
They pointed fingers, quick to cast blame.
Often seeking 15 minutes of their own fame.
Trained to tell lies and shedding fake tears.
Skilled virtue signalers, whatever endears.
Birds of a feather, his fair weather friends.
Coming and going on evil errands.
A Master of Puppets, his strings also pulled.
All of them, down the river, long ago sold.
Self sold to the devil who now owns their souls.
Busily striving, fulfilling Lucifer’s goals.
The parts have been cast, the spawn is arrayed.
Brandon the loser has sorely been played.
D.L. Crockett — 4/26/22