Joe Biden’s Face
I see things in faces that are not supposed to be seen.
What you hide is what you get.
I expect nothing and see what you are hiding.
You can tell a lot from a face even when its mouth is lying.
So when I look into the clown face of Joe Biden,
I see a Wasp at my country club, who hates Jews,
Blacks, women and all minorities;
Stepping on their feelings like ants.
Biden pretends that he is a liberal but his face is pasty
He is bigotry like the format of a Roman coin.
Cash him in,
You still get hatred dashing through fake acceptance.
Biden is the hatred that he denies.
You can see it in his white wrinkles and his lies.
I’ve played cards with men like Biden in the locker room
Of elegant country clubs
And listened to him bark at the black attendants
Like he was king,
Like he was a misplaced vice president,
Like he had the luck of the Irish in the body of a bigot.
It’s funny that you can see that he hates blacks in his eyelids
Yet he runs around like Obama’s little puppy dog
Snapping at his heels
Hoping for a pat of gratitude or a compliment.
Obama likes having a stupid pet and throws him bones
While Biden sits on his haunches and begs.
The things old men will do for a job are sadness blown
In the wind of death’s oncoming momentum.
He is the golf balls left in the rough.
He is a broken putter.
He is the anger at a broken golf cart.
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