Donald Trump,
the has-been frump,
mistakes the buzz
which he thinks does
surround the books
about his crooks
as something which
with proper pitch
will elevate
his sorry state
and mend his luster
and fans muster.
Sorry, bub,
but you're a flub --
and won't be back
on inside track
till ducks need visas
and Hades freezes.
Water witches are all wet;
how can anybody bet
on some rods waved at the ground
while the waver turns around?
Dowsing is baloney sliced,
plus a heist that is high priced.
It takes a special connoisseur
to locate any aquifer --
and always they are deep below,
and drilling to them is real slow.
By the time the work's complete,
the dowser ain't around to greet
an empty hole as dry as bone,
or help his victims pay their loan.
If you want to fight a drought
pray for rain and not a tout.
Go online for truth complete;
you will find it very neat.
Wrapped up in a bow of drek;
just as good as bouncing check.
All the world doth like to boast
they have info, not compost,
from a source that's unimpeached
(Yet strangely never can be reached.)
Like the fabled lemming, who
jumps without a proper view
of its fatal fall to ground,
are the folks who won't come 'round
when presented with the proof
that the doctors tell the troof
about vaccination need --
I hope they never interbreed.
I alone can fix this poem;
right now it doesn't scan.
The verses are uneven
and belong in garbage can.
But give me four years on the job
and you will see the diff;
although I'll have to push a few
vile traitors off a cliff.
I will make it great again,
this sorry piece of tripe;
'twill glitter with acuity
and overflow with hype.
I'll tear out all the leftist tropes;
nor rainbows cute employ --
the prevalence of voter fraud
shall be my whipping boy.
And then you'll see this mighty poem
rear up it's head in pride;
a Nobel Prize it shall obtain
or my name ain't Bromide!
"You gotta a car?"
"You gotta a car?"
The query echoes
near and far.
No matter what the price of gas --
America must drive en masse!
And dealerships both new and used
are feeling frightened and abused.
Those little dinky chips that we
took for granted stupidly
are scarce as hen's teeth nowadays,
leading to unfilled driveways.
Even junkers drivers crave
and caution for old lemons waive.
With passions running high and hearty
a car thief gets a necktie party!
When oh when will chips return?
When can rubber we all burn?
Woe is me, has fate decreed
returning to velocipede?
No! It shall not happen thus --
our wheels are not superfluous!
We must have Ford and Lexus too --
while greenhouse gas goes up the flu!
I had an old recliner that was taken away
and shot.
Then they came for my TV trays.
I fought them over my aged
cheddar cheese --
they handcuffed me to a
steam calliope
before squishing the cheese
under their jackboots.
Interesting fact:
circus people pronounce the word
'kal-EE-ope.'
But of course steam
calliopes,
however you pronounce them,
are a retro-terrorist threat,
and there are now none left.
Not even in museums.
But it all came apart when
they tried to pull down the Moon.
That thing's been around billions of years.
But when the men of liberal science tried
to pull it down with radio-magnetic waves
the Moon just went into a more elliptical
orbit --
disrupting the tides and speeding up
global warming.
Icebergs didn't melt, exactly.
Somehow the bergs got heavier and sank
to the bottom of the ocean,
crushing the krill breeding grounds.
Then they sent men up to the Moon in
rockets to nuke it.
Boy, they really hated that old Moon
because it has seen so much tyranny,
rape, slavery, and colonialism
and has never said a peep against it.
But here's the thing --
nuclear weapons won't work on
the Moon --
something to do with the gravity
and atmosphere.
So they erected a statue to
Everlasting Peace,
made out of the unexploded nuclear bombs,
in the Tycho crater.
It's a great tourist attraction.
Tucker Carlson on Fox News
makes it plain he will not choose
any vaccination rising
from the medics he's despising.
Flying in the face of fact,
doing it with little tact,
Tucker Carlson on Fox News
is working quite a deadly ruse
on his fans who put their faith
in this television wraith.
Willful mass misinformation
could be the death yet of our nation . . .
An apostolic reformation
now is sweeping all the nation;
mega-churches behind Trump
want to use a stomach pump,
draining sin from ev'ry belly
that has swallowed poisoned jelly
from the far left atheists --
demons full of hellish cysts!
Mercy Culture and the like
now are coming down the pike,
wielding swords of rectitude --
defying Satan's attitude.
Sharia law, based on the Bible,
they'll give to us, if only tribal.
One nation under God again --
where all must bow and say 'amen.'
I wish I felt more certitude
that Heaven is this dumb and crude . . .
What more there is to say
I will wait another day
on procrastinating trends
I don't have, but all my friends
are afflicted day and night --
all they ever say is 'might.'
They 'might' do a thing or not --
maybe next week if they're caught
with no valid reason why
it's not done and they can't lie.
On the other hand there's me,
full of prompt integrity;
When I say I'll do a thing
I begin on angel's wing
and 'tis done before you blink.
That includes the kitchen sink.
And the secret of my snap
I'll tell once I've had a nap . . .
And perhaps a bag of chips
while I watch some YouTube clips.
So come back some time or other
and I'll teach you dispatch, brother.
