Tag Archives: Donald Trump poem

Tyrant: NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 19: The Rant

Tyrant

Your arguments are specious, without a gram of proof,
but when we try to point this out, you only seem aloof.
Though you fancy that you’ve sex appeal and charm and woo and sizzle,
your expected rain of compliments turns out to be a drizzle.

That odor you find fragrant with which you mask your stench
would not be necessary if you were just a mensch*,
but the bald reality that you need to face
is that most of your actions are selfish, rude and base.

All your resolutions sworn to in the past
were but fabrications never meant to last.
In short, you are a narcissist thinking of you alone
with a thousand selfish vanities for which you won’t atone.

That’s why, my dear, you sit there in your ivory tower
wondering why your riches, your accomplishments and power
somehow do not satisfy when done for yourself only,
for all your grand accomplishments just leave you feeling lonely.

*mensch: a person of integrity and honor

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a humorous rant. In this poem, you may excoriate to your heart’s content all the things that get on your nerves.
Prompts today are sizzle, fragrant, past, specious and reality.images from Unsplash, used with permission

Wise Men and Fools


Wise Men and Fools

Pompous men and religious zealots rush into the fray
professing as the solid truth speculations they
determine to be necessary for things to be righted
and other fools support them because they are short-sighted.
But wisdom is as wisdom does and not as wisdom thinks.
It floats up to the surface when foolishness just sinks.
It tends toward calm and practical when flightier heads turn manic
and is irreconcilable with discord and with panic.

Fools may build vain edifices reaching to the skies
that are palatial prisons—follies in disguise.
In time of war, a bunker furnishes more protection,
offering a wiser choice to screen us from detection.
Fools raise their hands and wave at us, inviting their own end,
standing straight and rigid when a wiser man might bend.
Fools rush in where sages might not speculate,
instead letting  the evidence sit and percolate.

Sages, fools and charlatans mixed up in the fray.
For those who cannot tell the difference, now we’ll all have to pay.

 

Prompt words for today are wisdom, irreconcilable, practical and palatial.

If These Walls Could Talk


Coping with the 2020’s
If These Walls Could Talk

“It’s for your own welfare that we tell you this,”
my four walls all conspired to tell me with a hiss.
Your life is but a fantasy. It’s dreams that tell the truth.
It’s daylight that echoes the things that are uncouth.
If you could but live in dreams, your life would be an idyll.
It’s living with reality that makes one suicidal.

Prompt words today are echo, welfare, fantasy and idyll. This poem was written in response to the below comment on THIS POEM made by my friend Mary Francis McNinch of the Murdo Girl blog.   “A sad moment. A poem like this with the house talking would be good, too.”

HERE is Mary’s own Talking House poem.

 

Ta ta, Mr. Trump (Heading South)

Ta ta, Mr. Trump (Heading South)

Pundits agree that during transition
wit will be sharpened in the position
of the oval office whereas farther South
statements that issue from the orange guy’s mouth
might lower the level of logical statements,
bringing on overall massive abatements
of logic and reason, of wit and good will
formerly missing up there on the hill.
We’re forming a queue to bid him good bye,
as we trade him for a more logical guy
who lacks his baloney and blustering ways.
We’re headed, we hope, for happier days.
And we wish for the happiest final conclusion:
that his family joins him in his seclusion.

Word prompts today are sharpened, pundit, queue and transition. All images from Unsplash, Used with permission.

Here is an article about Mr. Trump’s new “home”–or so he wishes: https://www.townandcountrymag.com/style/home-decor/a7144/mar-a-lago-history/

And here is an article about the wishes of his new neighbors in Florida: Florida:https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/dec/17/trump-mar-a-lago-club-neighbors-florida

Beached

Beached

Snug in his nest in Mar-a-Lago he wonders
how to invest the additional plunders
he’s gained in his years of selling his favor.
He ponders his ice cream and wonders what flavor
they delivered today with his fries and Big Mac.
He gives it a lick and then gives a loud quack.
He’s big duck in this puddle, so does not know why
past cronies of his keep passing him by
avoiding eye contact. Do they not recall
how he was the single best POTUS of all?

Where are all of his partners in crime and dissent?
Can anyone tell him where they all went?
Where’s Ivanka?  Where’s Jared? On to their next steal?
Don’t they know he invented the art of the deal?
Once they jumped to his dictates as head of state.
Did other past presidents share the same fate?
Did Jefferson suffer a similar plight?
Did Washington sit alone every night
while Martha took off with her nightclubbing friends?
Did other great men meet with similar ends?

His last month in office he took a great scalding.
He’s lonely, obese and orange and balding.
He’s plummeted earthwards from such a great height
that all  of his minions should share in his plight,
yet they’ve all gone on to lives of their own,
leaving him here to pine on his throne. 
But what is the reason for his blatant smirking?
Can it possibly be that without even working
he’ll draw a huge pension for the rest of his life,
plus a travel allowance for him and his wife?

 

Prompt words for the day are dissent, snug, smirk and blatant. Images thanks to Unsplash. Used with permission.

Still on the Nickel?

Still on the Nickel?

Four hundred thousand for a pension, a million for his travel.
More for his security, McConnell, pound your gavel.

Give him not a penny. Not a nickel nor a dime.

He deserves no further payment for his life of crime.

May the senate use its Trump card to deal out his comeuppance.
When it comes to a pension, he should get nary a tuppence.

We’re tired of his finagling, the lies and all the trouble.
It’s time we drew the needle out to burst his four-year bubble.

If I may be pauciloquent, I’ll simply say, “IMPEACH!!!”
Finally do the right thing. Kick out the sonnofabeach!!!!!!

Prompt words today are comeuppance, trouble, pauciloquent (terse, using few words) and finagle.
“On the Nickel” in this context means “On the dole.” The Nickel is a street in San Francisco where a lot of homeless hang out. That Trump should have his hand out for further entitlements after his term is over just seems unconscionable to me. Let him earn his own nickels from now on. Impeachment will insure this. Here is one of my favorite Tom Waits songs that I drew my title from.

Winds of Change

 

Winds of Change

I’m picking at my cuticles and gnawing on my nails.
The winds behind my worries are puffing out their sails.
Operation Trump-bump may require a necromancer
to resurrect some aid to rid us of this monster’s cancer.

Lincoln, Roosevelt and Truman may have words to tell
how to rid our country of the past four years of Hell.
I’m eager to be rid of them and feel some consternation
over just how long it’s taken for this operation.

May less self-serving leaders at this long-awaited date
seize the wheel and take control of our ship of state.
May our country come together, most hoping for the best
and set our past divisions, hopefully, to rest.

 

 

Prompt words today are gnaw, operation, picking and eager.

Fools Rule Fools

 

 

I could not stand to watch election results, afraid that  election results from four years ago would be repeated. I awakened at 5 a.m. to read a Facebook message from a friend fearing Trump had won. (Thanks, Gordon, for such a pleasant awakening message.) Then a message flashed in the upper right of my screen that Trump was protesting the election. So perhaps he hadn’t won, but the idea that it was close enough that he’d consider doing so broke my heart. Then I looked at the prompt words:


Fools Rule Fools

Utopia is broken, it’s promise growing faint.
Not a pretty picture for liberty to paint.
That it could even be this close signals something broken.
That all our pretty declarations have become a token.
Liberty and fairness? Land of opportunity?
What happened to “Give me your poor?” What happened to our unity?
“Opportunist” works to label one who seeks to rule us,
driven to seek office out of a lust to fool us.
People, take your blinders off. Your piper is a cruel one.
When it comes to ruling over fools, it takes a fool to rule one!

 

Word prompts today are paint, Utopia, promise..

November 3, 2020

November 3, 2020

We’re all on tenterhooks, watching and waiting.
We’re tired of tirades. We’re tired of debating.
All of our liberties turned inside out.
What was once done in peace has turned into a bout.
They storm and they threaten and set up false boxes—
the eagle of freedom brought down by vile foxes.

We can’t vouch for our system when so much goes wrong—
when our national anthem’s drowned out by a throng
of those who think that because they are white,
they are superior and have the right
to put down minorities and to change facts,
their white supremacy pardoning the acts

of looting and burning and intimidation.
These acts being staged with no trepidation
thanks to the POTUS who sits calmly by
and approves of it all from his perch in the sky.
We anticipate violence—fear it’s the ones
sowing disorder who have all the guns.

What is the solution? To arm everyone
and have a big shootout when voting is done?
Increasingly, I fear our cyber connection
has been both a bane and a lethal infection.
The villains know how to make use of it
to foment disaster and cause a big fit.

It reaches out hands to enter our homes.
It slashes and pierces and rabidly foams.
Hiding its poison in all of the cracks—
in viruses, malicious websites and hacks.
Turn out the villains, then work on the system
that welcomed them in and pampered and kissed ’em.

Our system of governance was made to be changed,
lest it be exploited by the deranged.
Enact campaign finance and firearms control,
then stem the electoral college’s role.
Time-worn practices need doing in,
for the robes of liberty have grown too thin.

Threadbare and tattered, she quakes at the blast
of self-serving politicians that tear at the past.

Prompt words today are tenterhooks, anticipate, storm and vouch. Image by Peggy Zinn on Unsplash. Used with permission.

After the Election

 

After the Election

Once the storm’s been pacified, I’ve made a lucid choice.
Never again will I listen to that orange fool’s voice!!!!

Prompt words today are lucid, pacify, storm and choice.