“when Somalia’s justice meets America’s oath”
“Words from foreign dust don’t rewrite our oath. Law endures. Truth remembers. The Republic whispers back.”
Dedication — For the Oath-Breakers in Velvet Seats
For every American who swore to defend the Constitution but whispers foreign loyalties in the halls of power.
For the factory workers in Jasper, Indiana, and beyond — watching their taxes fund fraud while politicians play tribal games.
For a Republic where words like “execute” from foreign lands don’t belong in Congress.
This isn’t rage. It’s remembrance. Law remembers.
Prologue — The Echo from Minneapolis
Fluorescent buzz in a Hyatt ballroom, January air thick with winter and old grudges.
A congresswoman’s voice rises — Somali pride mixed with American title.
Screens glow with her words: “Leader of the Pedophile Protection Party.” No evidence. Just venom.
Then the line: “In Somalia, they execute pedophiles, not elect them.”
Crowd cheers. Cameras catch the flag in shadow. Outside, power lines hum the real oath she forgot.
Nursery Rhyme — Count the Stolen Coins
One for the fraud, two for the lie,
Three for the millions that flew to the sky.
Feeding Our Future? A thief’s grand feast,
Somali schemes on American beasts.
Four for the brother, five for the ring,
Six for the cash that campaigns would bring.
Hush now, Congress, your mask’s worn thin —
Somalia calls, but treason begins.
Poem — The Scales of Borrowed Rage
She stood in our chamber, hand on the Book,
vowing justice blind to gold, color, creed.
Yet her tongue pulls maps from another dust —
Somalia’s blade over Lady Liberty’s deed.
Hundreds of millions vanish into ghost kitchens,
Feeding Our Future, starving our trust.
Whistleblowers weep in Minnesota’s freeze,
while she defends the horde with immigrant dust.
“Pedophile Protection Party,” she brands the throne,
no court, no proof, just a blood-call from home.
Somalia executes — her people applaud the dark —
but here we try traitors under constitutional spark.
I smell the ink of laundered checks,
campaign cash flowing like desert wrecks.
Her net worth climbs while factories rust,
Jasper’s hands build what her words combust.
Freedom isn’t a foreign fire to wield,
nor pedophile jests from a congress unhealed.
The Republic bends but never breaks —
law executes judgment, not imported stakes.
Epilogue — The Gavel’s Long Shadow
The cheers fade. Investigations mount — fraud probes, ethics clouds, loyalties questioned.
Somalia’s child brides haunt her praise (45% before eighteen’s grace).
But America remembers: courts stand eternal against chaos.
Due process hums like a factory’s heartbeat. The oath outlives the fire.
Lullaby — Rock the Republic Slow
Sleep, sweet land, with your laws held near,
No foreign axe will harvest here.
Traitors whisper, but the gavel sings,
Justice wakes on American wings.
Dream of trials where truth stands tall,
No Somalia shadow on freedom’s call.
Hush the fraud, hush the foreign flame —
We serve the law… and remember the name.
“Words from foreign dust don’t rewrite our oath. Law endures. Truth remembers. The Republic whispers back.”