Tag Archives: poem about Donald Trump

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.

Trump Tower II

Trump Tower II

The architecture of the house takes his needs to heart.
To create a perfect climate in every single part
was a top priority, so when the north winds blow,
within, he feels no ill-effects from gale or rain or snow.

He’ll find the ambient temperature is perfect day and night.
Summer, winter, spring or fall, be it day or night,
his family will not feel the cold, succumb to summer’s scorch
In the bedroom or the living room, the basement or the porch.

The sound control in every room functions without a hitch,
so when he whispers secrets, the staff can never snitch.
Noise produced in one room is not heard in any other.
He’s protected from Ivanka’s soaps and rock played by her brother.

All-in-all the ambience surrounds them like a glove—
be it balmy climate or all the sounds they love.
Bird song or the ocean or mixtures of the two.
What animal sounds they might crave—an auditory zoo.

Species may vanish off the earth but he will always hear them.
It’s nice to enjoy species without having  to be near them.
Doves cooing, elephants trumpeting, a lion’s hearty roar
might persuade a burglar to remain outside his door.

What cares he if the oceans rise and masses do not love it?
His house converts into a boat so you can float above it.
The whole world may freeze stiff or burn for all that he may care,
for he’ll be protected safely, tucked up in his fine lair.

Prompt words today are architectureambient, succumb, snitch.

Fore!!! (Ousted)

Fore!!! (Ousted)

He wasn’t fit, he wasn’t deft.
Of brainpower, he was bereft.
So it should have been a landslide loss
that demoted him from being boss,
but it seems that daftness is in vogue.
Too many voted for the rogue.
Yet when I heard, to my delight,
we’d been  delivered from four years’ blight,
I whooped my whoops and cried my cries.
No constant orange would greet my eyes
whenever I turned on the tube.
We’ve exorcized the bungling boob!

Prompt words today are delight, landslide and  deft. 

Masked and Unmasked

Masked and Unmasked

Would you please exonerate me from my daily task
of hourly disinfectant and this horrid mask?
They’re needed for survival and using them is wise.
I believe the truth of it. I don’t believe the lies
that Donald tries to feed us about things getting better.
The west coast’s burning up as our southern coast gets wetter.
His conniption fits don’t reach me. I know he’s just selected
any random facts and words for getting reelected.
The only way to free us is to get some wiser folks
to  replace these charlatans that are merely jokes.
Self-serving puppets of the rich, they posture and they bluster.
They proudly go out maskless as they gather in his cluster.
The only way to save us is to vote these fools out.
It’s done no good to protest, to riot and to shout.
The finest weapon that we have is easier to tote.
Just put your mask and gloves on and hurry out to vote.
We’ll wear these masks forever until we pass away
if every single one of us doesn’t have our say.
If you’re my friend, please go and vote. It’s not much of a task.
And maybe in my lifetime I can get rid of this mask!!!!

 

Prompts today are lies, survive, conniption, exonerate and feed.

Donald’s Time Out

Donald’s Time Out

Everyone knows that you reap what you sow.
This platitude’s spoken wherever we go.
And when it is cotton you bury so deep,
It’s also true that you’ll sew what you reap.

You must get despondent when things don’t go right,
for the seeds that you’ve sown are what you must bite.
If you plant bitter melons, you’ll meet with defeat
if sweeter fruit is what you want to eat.

Whatever is planted at your behest
is what you will yield at your own request.
Whatever you’ve buried will rise to the top.
Benevole
nt actions will yield a kind crop.

But harm done to others, you’ll likely rue,
as the other one acted upon will be you!
You are part of the world where you’re planting your seed,
and you’ll bear the brunt of your terrible greed.

It’s a different dark harvest the world is now reaping.
It’s been getting a foothold while you have been sleeping.
As you wielded your golf clubs, its roots have spread wide.
It lifted its branches as millions have died.

It crept out of cages as children bemoaned
the fact they were hungry and cold and alone.
It was watered by rivers poisoned and polluted,
as reason was smothered and good sense diluted.

So reap your cruel harvest. What fate is now serving
is certainly what you have long been deserving.
So you’ll sit at the table until you’ve diminished
the junk on your plate, and once you have finished,

please clean up the beaches and oceans and air,
for the evils you’ve planted have spread everywhere.
You’ll sit at that table until you confess
your part in creating this terrible mess! 

Pull your chair to the table and eat ’til you choke.
The evils you’ve done are more than a joke.
The fruits of your labor have made a vile stew.
Please forgive us if we refuse dining with you!!!

 

Words of the day are harvest, despondent, benevolent, behest and difference. Image by Joyce Romero on Unsplash.

 

Who Needs an Election?

Who Needs an Election?

Our perfunctory president is not in any hurry
to pack his suitcase.  He’s a rat that’s unequipped to scurry.
Unready to give up his throne., he thinks we are in need
of his gross incompetence, his racism and greed.
How could his teeming vassals unseat their liege-lord now?
How dare his noble lackeys desert their sacred cow?
Are they in their right minds, seeking to end his power?
Must he desert his White House and make do with his tower?

His orange countenance grows pale. His comb-over descends.
He thought that he would rule our world ’til he was in Depends!
If he could only change the rules, how great that it would be
to play his “Trump,” enabling him to found a dynasty.
First Junior, then Ivanka could inherit his domain.
What other tyrant is equipped to take over his reign?
This liberty these fools taut can’t hold a candle to him.
His light is needed now the torch of liberty’s gone dim.

No need for an election. The world’s too dire for that.
He’ll gladly serve another term growing sleek and fat.
He’ll sack Social Security and supplement the riches
of all the moneyed classes. Never mind the foreign bitches
who have swarmed into the congress. Send those tawny women home—
the sacred halls of governance better suit a gnome
who carries golf clubs as his scepters and overlooks derision
to fuck the whole damn world according to his crazy vision.

“Heil Trump,”  his swastika’d supporters chant. “And damn the Jews!”
“Crucify the liberals,” is shouted from the pews
of those for whom religion is being blindly led,
forsaking what is written in favor of what’s said.
As lambs led to the slaughter, let us bleat and blindly scamper
after all the rich men that we were born to pamper.
We do not need good health care, let alone good food or shelter.
Long Live Trump! Who cares if the whole world goes “Helter Skelter?”

 

Prompt words are unready, perfunctory, racismscurry and suitcase. Image  from Unsplash, used with permission.

 

State of the Nation


State of the Nation

Faith is growing cynical. Grace is wearing out.
Happiness is in the doldrums. Patience wears a pout.
Our country that connoted  fairness and liberty
now holds us in its fist. We are anything but free.
Its silver saber tarnished, we’re falling to its blade.
So much for all those plans our founding fathers made.

 

Prompt words for the day are cynical, grace, connote and silver. First image from Unsplash used with permission.

America’s Burning

IMG_0970 (1)

America’s Burning

Count the faces. Take a tally
of the peaceful protest rally.
Their routine is most well-planned,
masks in place, placards in hand.

Enter police. Down on belly!!!
Enter newscasters for telly.
Teargas in the people’s park.
Truckloads arrive after dark.

Rioting and smashing glass.
Other dark deeds come to pass.
Using protest for excuse
to bring discord and spread abuse.

Violence becomes routine.
Authority a cruel machine.
A whole nation comes to grieve
the loss of what most folks believe.

An orange bigot, Bible raised,
pontificates, posturing, crazed.
A landmark of our country’s pride,
struck by a flash as freedom died.

Has our nation come to this?
This puffed-up, prideful bag of piss?
Shame on a country who listens to
a fool who’s rotten through and through.

Let sane men take the lead  and bring
some sanity to everything.
Equality and fairness reign
under a government more sane.

People stand up. Demand the best.
Do not give up. We cannot rest.
Seize back the country we have sold
to men who only care for gold.

Give succor to the halt and lame.
Do not play the money game
subsidizing rich man’s greed
instead of helping those in need.

Color is just an outer skin
and not a mark of shame or sin.
Use these sad times to make a start
to start to recognize the heart

that unites men from every nation,
every interest, every station.
Save our earth and save mankind.
Restore justice, and make her blind!!

Prompt words today are belly, landmark, grieve, rally and routine. I swore I’d write about something other than the rallies and violence that are tearing at the flesh of the whole world, but impossible to follow these prompt words anywhere except back to the current matters at hand.

McDonald Duck and Friends

 

McDonald Duck and Friends

I know a certain Donald— a king of pass the buck
who to leadership is much less suited than that duck
with whom he shares a name but whose smarts and application
far exceed the POTUS who prefers a golf vacation
to tending to affairs of state except to prompt aggression,
medical misinformation, racism, secession
in order to create a place where he would be the King
relieving congress and the courts from every single thing.

He’d sit up in his tower once the senate had resigned,
ruling at his leisure far above the daily grind,
digressing into fun and games—a golf game, maybe two,
stopping in for French fries and big Macs with extra goo.
He’d sit upon his golden thrown waiting for his bribes
to be delivered daily from his well-heeled tribes.
Courts would not be needed, for guns would rule the day,
trading in extortion in lieu of legal pay.

Let the country go to hell so long as billionaires
go on stockpiling more cash to soothe away their cares.

 

Word prompts today are leadership, resign, duck, digress and application. photo by Amir Abbas Abdolali on  Unsplash. Used with permission.

POTUS

POTUS

He’s just a phase in history, but when will this phase end?
The whole world’s breath is being held. When will he round the bend?
As he jogs on in his next race, we wish that it were ended.
Surely as he gains in girth, he must be getting winded!
Yet our domestic maniac goes on planning his crazies.
The world will not be sane again ’til he’s pushing up daisies!

 

Word prompts for the day are domestic, maniac, history and phase. Image by Visuals on Unsplash. Used with permission.