Don’t Threaten Me With Your Threats

I’m naked. Don’t finger me with your threats.
I’m naked. Don’t bugger me with your threats.

On windswept streets, rich get richer and poor
stark children. Don’t beggar me with your threats.

Beverly Hillbillies drill down for crude
solutions. Don’t auger me with your threats.

Blood’s in season. The old taste inflates price.
Trickle down. Don’t hunger me with your threats.

Attack of whimsied snark. Public private
bathysphere. Don’t blogger me with your threats.

Dirty bomb downtown. A plane disappears
into glass. Don’t monger me with your threats.

In snow-bearded Tora Bora crags, you
creep gladly. Don’t cougar me with your threats.

In wine-dark vortex of Oval Office,
you spin, spin. Don’t vulgar me with your threats.