Poet’s Corner: Observations of a Fake President

Stripped naked in a corner;
Mind racing with a plan;
Lies written out of order;
For every Congressman:
Like a butterfly, elusive,
Hoping most will take his bait;
A fly trap not of honey–
But a sentence made of hate.

A sentence made of subjects:
Beheaded and the slain,
Mistreatment of the children;
Resulting in their pain.
Blaming every democrat,
As he dusts his epilate.
Self appointed as a leader
And still he doesn’t get…

There is no caravan a comin;
Nor is there one that’s passed:
(Only in the “Circus
Of The Bloated Minds” are gassed.)
It’s in the Oval Office
Where this Devil lives;
And fear is what’s he’s plated:
It’s all he has and gives.

There’s no terror with a name tag,
‘Less you hold a tiki torch:
Marching through the streets of Charlottesville,
Or weaving nooses on your porch.
It’s not the brown or black we fear,
In the real America:
It’s the President; the scarecrow,
Whose biggest word is “Duh.”

So you shiver and you quiver
As Mueller nears your White House cell.
Your lies create diversion
And Stephen Miller rings your bell:
For he has another speech prepared;
(You mindless demagogue)
FIDO’s the new POTUS;
You’re another Pavlov’s dog. 

So get up from that corner;
Put on your Sunday Best.
Another Trump fiasco?
Yes, you come with hope’s unrest
Still, we count on Robert Mueller,
To tell us what is true.
Really Mr. President…
We could never count on you.

Top illustration: Bigstock