by Marc Lionhart09 Nov 2016
The cheers in the streets can be heard for miles!
The rejoicing wallets and corporal gullets can be heard rattling with plastic on plastic.
The market carts are crashing with glee, the ram-raids have begun on Wall Street.
The United States have spoken, and the whole world will become soaked in the benefits of greed, the likes of which have never been seen.
The men can keep their freedom, the women can retain their right to give up the good fight.
The vote has spoken! The opposing spirit has been broken, and the principles Roman.
The future has a hue of orange and bleach blonde, and a rather loud shouty voice that sounds like drone-controlled bombs.
Fathers, brothers, sisters, mums can all fuse into one as a united people, with guns to protect all that is regal, all that is lethal.
Confetti in only red showers the internet, social justice is dowsed in an appetite so wet, as the bets come in the odds are ever in our favour, a sentiment we can all savour.
The vote welcomes the resident of the house painted white, the vote calls its new president into sight, to stand just right of centre.
Like something out of an article from Newsthump, we welcome the new era of Donald J. Trump.