You won an office, not the deed.
The oath was not a license for greed.
You didn’t buy the common peace.
The Bill of Rights is not your lease.
The people aren’t your tenants, Don.
Their rights remain when you are gone.
And should your bill for greatness come—
Please itemize what we’ve become.
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You quit Iran’s old nuclear deal;
Then bombs became the next appeal.
In twenty-five, the bombers flew;
In twenty-six, the warfare grew.
Your peace pitch needs a slight repair:
It keeps exploding in midair.At Hormuz, shipping faced attack;
The fuel-price shock came traveling back.
At pumps and freight depots, the bill
Arrived without a campaign thrill.
The family budget joined the fight—
Its casualties get less limelight.Then tariffs! Foreigners would pay!
A lovely pitch. Except, say,
The import bill came due right here,
And parts for OUR goods grew more dear.
The foreign tribute, by and by,
Was paid by folks at Best Buy.O master of the golden sign,
Who treats the public trust as MINE,
Who markets every crack as strength
And measures truth by banner length:
The country isn’t real estate.
Its laws aren’t yours to renovate. -
The Constitution? Fine in parts—
Except the bit where losing starts.
You floated termination. Neat!
The warranty expired at defeat.Your January clemency decree
Came with a lesson, plain to see:
The cops who fought them got to view
How flexible your love of blue.Birthright? You’d revise the deal;
The courts supplied a different seal.
Then government got budget shears—
Less staff to check the missing gears.
Efficiency! A splendid boast:
A lighthouse runs much cheaper closed.To NATO came your helpful view:
Pay enough—or Russia’s free with you.
A mutual defense arrangement
Became a premium subscription payment.Then Canada, our northern pal,
Became your next potential mall.
Europe learned to hedge its bets;
Beijing could use what distrust gets.
While allies plan for your next turn,
Their rivals watch—and wait—and learn. -
At borders, families split apart—
A policy to warm the heart!
Reunion plans were quite a mess,
The watchdogs found. But what success:
When toughness needs a child to cry,
Perhaps the grown-ups should ask why.Ukraine’s aid became the fuss;
The House charged you abused our trust.
Impeached, acquitted—both are true.
The history gets both columns, too.Of COVID’s danger, you knew plenty;
You played it down in twenty-twenty.
A mask became a party test—
The virus must have been impressed.Warp Speed helped vaccines arrive;
Give credit where it helped save lives.
That doesn’t make the rest less odd:
A germ won’t flatter, vote, or nod.The voters fired you. What a shock!
You tried to have the scoreboard docked.
“Find” votes! Get substitute electors!
Democracy needs better directors!Then January’s doors gave way;
The count was stopped amid the fray.
For hours you failed to call them home—
A novel way to guard the dome. -
Your charity acquired the knack
Of giving politics a snack.
A judge required two million paid—
Compulsory compassion! Court-made aid!Then came that tape, that priceless class
In how a star may make a pass:
A grab, a boast, a famous face—
Consent reduced to second place.You answered women with denials;
Then Carroll took her claims to trial.
The civil jury’s finding: true—
Sexual abuse, defamation too.
No criminal verdict. Keep that clear.
Still not your finest souvenir.Then Stormy weather, secret pay,
And records dressed another way.
Guilty: thirty-four felony counts.
Some awkward entries in your accounts.With Epstein, photographs remain;
They prove acquaintance, not his chain
Of crimes as yours. We’ll keep that straight:
There’s ample fact to contemplate.Obama’s birthplace! What a quest!
The documents could get no rest.
For years you fed that bogus doubt—
A welcome mat that said KEEP OUT. -
Ode to Donald Trump
Or, The Art of the SquealO Donald, prince of gilded things,
Of marble floors and onion rings,
Whose name, in letters ten feet tall,
Suggests the owner needs it all.We praise the talent, rare and great,
To turn each loss to someone’s hate;
To sell the fire, bill for the hose,
Then blame the smoke on people’s clothes.In seventy-three, the feds alleged
Your housing had a racial edge.
You settled; guilt was not conceded.
A legal distinction. Keep it. Needed.The workers said their bills went unpaid—
A curious way to praise a trade.
They built the splendor, hauled the stone;
You showed how wealth can trickle… home.For Central Park, you bought ad space
To thunder death back into place.
When those convictions came undone,
You still defended what you’d done.Your school sold dreams of getting rich;
The settlement revised the pitch.
Twenty-five million closed the case—
No guilt admitted. Lovely phrase. -
Just heard about this today. They should’ve called it Skynet.
“Starshield is broader than simply a military internet service: it also supports surveillance missions. Many details about its capabilities and deployment remain classified or undisclosed.”