Poems for Trump #65 I hate this fucking orange faced bastard.

A poem for Stephanie ...
who calls it.

I hate this fucking orange faced bastard
is a metered late Romantic all rhymes
& gentle allusions & meek symbolism
as of lambs in the fields
& wandering clouds
work of late Elizabethan
whimsy & fancy,
well actually no,
its not!

I hate this fucking orange
faced bastard!
I hate him so much that
it begins to trouble me,
to make me reflect,
ponder on this,
wonder on that.

Is it just the way he looks,
all white, fat & comb-overed?
is it his stupid plastic clownish
expressions of surprise &
ultimate dumbitude?
his Trump steaks, & Trump water,
his big fucking Golden Trump Tower,
like he's still 13 & insecure
about the size of his dick?
His Trump magazines, his Trump University,
his cruel insults, his petty infantile joking,
his golfing?
oh how I loath his golfing.

Is it his hypocrisies,
his secret deals,
hidden handshakes,
trophy wives who have
to pleasure him?
lonely son who he leaves
all alone to swing a golfclub
in a golden room with
Manhattan views?

Is it his racist Birther bullshit?
Could be,
that sealed the deal a while
back now,
his fear-mongering, his endless
endless lying,
his Islamophobia,
(look it up Deplorables
if you're at a a loss here).

Is it his carney con-man
taking all you's for a
ride if only, only you'd
seen it?

Could be all & more, really,
but I hate this fucking orange faced bastard,
that I do know.

Poems for Trump #64 That Stupid Hat!

Just seeing that dumb red hat
gives me the Heebeejeebees,
the Holy Camoleys,
I get the Willies,
the John B. Scrotes,
I feel Ben Carsoned,

as if I've been Rogered in my sleep
by Quasimodo & then been forced
to pleasure the Seven Dwarfs,

I have the shivers,
I plead repugnance,
I share the odium,

I experience that near frenzied disgust
as left by a cold slug traversing one's
naked arm in the dank moonlight,

when that oh so ridiculous red tractor
hat is worn by men who have
chauffeurs & bejeweled
golf carts,
& look like a fat cat's fantasy
of a fat cat,

to Make America Great Again for that matter
maybe you have to go as far back as Sitting Bull,
Red Cloud, the Shawnee, herds of bison,
counting coup, & eagle-feather headdresses,

Making America Great Again does not in any
way involve Leroy from the hills feeling better
about his race or Donald J. Trump coming
forth as some sort of Poor Man's Moses.

I hate that stupid hat!

Poems for Trump #63 Julian Assange Pisses Me Off

He's all smirking with his
secrets that he knows &
we don't but he's going
to bless us with their
presence as if the shit
he's all Wikileaking
wasn't already guessed
at & yes, thanks Assange
for helping elect Trump
you Libetarian-crypto-fascist
you,

with your all-knowing so-called
Liberal airs that have just
helped make the world
worse in actual objective
fact,

well the CIA watch us all!
heck thats news to me,
not as if I didn't know
that as a 14 year old
in England 46 years ago,

& so when you sit in your
comfy chair in your
Embassy exile please
remember that I cannot
for the life of me fathom
how helping elect Trump
is in any way a good thing,

to hell with you Julian Assange,
you pompous self-important
rat.

Poems for Trump #62 Do We Really Think They Care?

Do We Really Think They Care?


Trump voters that is,
about shady Russian ties to dark oligarchs
& billion ruble deals,
conflicts of interest,
ties made in China,
family business entanglements?

day after day of golf,
Mar A Largo Winter White House hustle,
enormous Secret Service bills as the
Trumps are scattered here, there
and it seems everywhere,

dicey handshakes,
White Supremacists in the White House,
the American Constitution,
Legal niceties such as checks
& balances,
day after day
lies about this,
& lies about that?

hypocrisies & shallow
empty throw-aways
at the African American
Museum,
Sean 'Fool me two times' Spicer,
media bans,
EPA anti-science,
utterly insane
nuclear pronouncements?

a huge, very huge
military budget,
some backtracking
on the wall,
word salad Muslim ban
justifications?

an overweight, ignorant
orange-faced hustler
just counting those
dollar bills as
he rakes
them in?

Do we really think
they care?

I think not
because well
first off
at least now there isn't
a black, Kenyan, Islamist
Marxist running things,

we can all be so thankful
for that,

& all the other stuff
just seems by the way
in comparison.

Poems for Trump #61 Trump Loves his Money ...

Trump has overseas businesses
& assures us he has no conflicts
here, there & everywhere ...

Oh well sure,
we're reassured that you won't
actually be using every angle,
turning every corner, fine-tuning
every legality to bring those dollars
rolling in ...

just as he did with Trump University,
his pitiful bottled water & steak props
at his 'news' conference, his ties made
in China, his Mar A Lago Winter White
House operation, his Trump jet rentals,
your seats next to the President-elect for
close to a cool million ...

his Paul Manafort with his Ukraine deals,
his numerous go-fers all bouncing around
from here to Moscow, his secret deals we'll
all soon know about, his money laundering
Azerbaijan hotel racket, his red fucking hats,
all your Trump makin' a buck wheelin' & dealin'
that continues as we speak ...

& the hell of it is all the poor schmucks who think
you're Daddy Bigbucks & would love the chance
to one day make it just as you, all gold this & big
that & pomp & privilege & trickle-down & screw
the little man, the brown man, the other man &
yes by Jesus he's the man to get it done,
he speaks our language,
feels our pain ...

the only language he speaks is monetary,
the only values he has are green-backed, the only
everyman he looks out for is the mark he's about
to take in Donald Trump's corner store 3 card monte.

Trump sure loves his money, & thanks you all for
this great opportunity to use the Presidency of this
here United States to just plain rake it in like a
chubby, orange Scrooge McDuck in his golden,
tingling, vast & filling basement.

Poems for Trump #61 Let's Make A Deal or Democracy 101.

Come on down
right on down now,
a brand new car,
deluxe washer dryer
brand spankin' new
& all ready to go,
spin that wheel,
turn that square,
answer that question
& gamble that dollar,
Donald J. Trump
has come to town,

the Dealmaker
the Best of the Best,
the All American
gettin' it done
wise & wicked
grinnin' fat cat,
who'll somehow
keep an eye out
for all you smaller
folks as he swings
those roundabouts
& crosses those t's
& cashes his chips,

Donald J. Trump
will make that dollar,
dig that coal &
bury that pipeline,
negotiate that better
ditch that failure,
scrap that law,
watch out for
that business
& surely curb
those watchdogs,

& money will be
made but not by
you or I or Shirl
or Bob but those oh so
connected & Sheldon's
& Coke Brother's &
Investors & Directors
& Oligarchs & Overseas
Accounts & the select
few who always,
always, seem to
do just fine,

& the pitiful irony
if you will of all
this Making Great
Again & victory
for the Little Man
is that the little
man cast his lot
with someone
who never gave
the slightest damn
& Earl & Nancy
once more get
the short stick,
the bad apple,
the cracker
without
the prize,
the pathetic hat
& the broken
fading whistle.

Poems for Trump #60 Ben Carson is an Idiot #2

"They too had a dream that
one day their sons, daughters,
grandsons, granddaughters ... 
might pursue prosperity &
happiness in this land."

Well perhaps not Ben ...
perhaps while 10% of their
chained compatriots died around
them in the dark, shit-filled hull
of this heaving slave-ship they
may well have dreamt of home,
of family, of safety, warmth, of
the basic human right to dignity
& freedom & an ability to simply
walk through life going upon
one's business without the threat
of armed traders carting you off
to other lands ...
perhaps they dreamt of that,

& perhaps upon arrival & unloading
& a brutal harsh sunlight & a reckoning
of those you knew who'd died & been
thrown to the sharks & an examining
of teeth & body as a horse at trade
while upon a block as folks whiter
than you shouted out in strange
tongues & your wife & child were
elsewhere & your whole life was at
that moment in cruel & tragic collapse,
you might have thought of other things
rather than ...
Oh lord, yes, yes, one day I'm going
to be able to make a buck in this Land
of the Free and Home of the Brave ...