Tag Archives: Donald Trump 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.

Fatal Folly

 

Fatal Folly

A fabulist can take the truth and spin it, change it, plan it,
but then it is no longer truth, for truth is carved in granite.
The real truth is indelible. Permanent. Etched in stone.
Don’t mess with it and call it truth. You must leave truth alone.
It can’t accommodate a stretch. It’s fierce in resolution.
It’s not right to bend it simply to find a solution.

Truth is truth and fabrication is another matter,
so do not conjure up a tale and claim it’s not the latter.
Though presidents and kings and poets scratching in their dormer
might for their single purposes stray away from the former,
there must be someone willing to call out their acts as ruthless,
for there’s no folly greater than to be led by the truthless.

For dVerse Poets: Folly

The Fallen

 

The OctPoWriMo prompt today, in addition to the first two words in the list below, is to devise a new poetic form. The form I’ve created is one of dual rhyme. The first part of each line must consist of two rhymed halves. In addition, the last word in each line must rhyme with all the ending words of each line in the poem.  I hereby declare the name of this new poetic form to be “The Forced Rhyme Two-Step.”
Word prompts today are stretch, disorder, topple, allegation, forest, awe.

 

The Fallen

Though the forest is my florist, it is locked in hibernation.
It’s my belief there is no leaf throughout the whole damn nation.
There’s no pollen. Leaves have fallen, and a further allegation
is an order that the border be locked up in litigation
lest the thieves of the leaves are a foreign delegation.
Word of mouth? They’ve fled south, so we’ll need a stronger station
to stop theft of what’s left of next year’s reforestation.
Yet the disorder at our border is a cause for jubilation.
Those not in awe of the law find it cause for much elation,
for the bloke is a joke who stirred up the population
when it’s galling that the falling is just due to maturation!
It’s a stretch, but the wretch who’s in need of education
is the chump, name of Trump, who’s in need of a vacation.
Fare thee well, POTUS from Hell, for we feel no reservation.
Your ablution’s the solution to our country’s renovation!!
“Vote him out!!” we all shout. End four years of reprobation!!
And when he topples, we’ll hear Koppel’s sincere felicitations.

 

 

November 3

November 3

Since we first crept out of the primordial slime,
evolving from a past when our words were only mime,
since the time we clothed ourselves in dresses and in britches,
we took our world for granted–its beauties and its riches.

We’ve jeopardized our future by burning fossil fuels,
courted war and pestilence, led on by greedy fools.
How do we show our gratitude for all nature’s provision?
We frack and turn, pollute and burn to fuel the world’s division.

Blind to impending disaster, we rush foolishly on,
letting those we’re led by continue with their con.
Buoyantly, we bob along, soothed by drugs and boozing,
not realizing all the ills in life are of our choosing.

What will it take to stem the tide? Who will arrive to lead us?
Who will heal our ravaged Earth, restore our souls and feed us?
Will this be an election that brings us ’round the bend
or will it just propel us more quickly to our end?

 

Image by Ella Evanescu on Unsplash. Used with permission. Prompt words for the day are impending, jeopardize, creep, buoyant, gratitude and slime.