Donald met a speed bump. They’ve hung him out to dry. He can’t understand for he is an upstanding guy. He’s everybody’s hero. His daughter tells him so. He has a stunning hairdo. He has plenty of dough. The charges that they’re making? It’s clear that they’re just jealous. This is what a POTUS gets who’s handsome, smart and zealous.
He sneaks down the darkened hallway. He knows it’s somewhere here. He finally finds the kitchen. He knew that he was near. They’ve locked the fridge and cupboards to protect him from assassins, but he knows where keys are hidden and how the fridge unfastens. He creaks the door wide open and sees it on the shelf— the gallon of fudge ripple just waiting for himself.
He grabs a spoon and shuts the door. He locks it and he’s off, betrayed by not one footfall, one heavy breath or cough. He almost makes it back to where he can gorge undetected. When all at once a flashlight warns he’s soon to be inspected. It’s not the secret service that has caught him being naughty. It’s worse! It is Melania standing stern and haughty.
Sheepishly, he takes his ice cream cache back to the kitchen. A rumbling tummy preferable to her eternal bitchin’. Tomorrow he’ll slip off to his favorite namesake arches. Mcmuffins always compensate for midnight thwarted marches.
Three with Sausage, one with bacon should be the proper ration
To fuel this self-proclaimed hero as he messes up the nation.
The prompt: write a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).
It’s hardly worth the time it takes to rail against the gross corruption.
It’s gotten so the lack of it is what is classed as interruption.
Pure evil seems to run the world with scalawags who dupe the people.
False prophets fooling idiots who think because they hug a steeple
God has ordained all that they say, forgetting who they hurt or batter.
All they proclaim is what’s believed. The harm they do seems not to matter.
Good churchmen please examine closer what the ones who lead are saying.
The evil that they do is not abolished by the fact they’re praying.
Mean acts against humanity are wrong no matter what you call them.
True holy men are those who find that unkind acts always appall them.
You cannot keep the world you live in safe behind a towering wall.
When the true danger you’re not seeing crouches there inside you all.
The NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem whose lines contained seventeen syllables each. Yes. I did it. Can’t resist a challenge. I asked forgottenman to give me a one word prompt yesterday, but his response came too late, so I used it today. His prompt was “Corruption.”