June 20, 2019  
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How the Trump Made American Grate
How the Trump Made American Grate
Twas a week before New Year’s and all through the land
people were restless. The plan was not going as planned.
The Trump was alone in his big White House
plotting more chaos for every human and mouse.
All his friends were leaving, the generals were done.
Even Paul Ryan was quitting cause the Trump was no fun.
Gone were Mattis and Kelly and even Ryan Zinke.
Only left was Kim Jong-un and a few other stinkies.
Terror was way up and all the stocks were way down.
His travel ban was a bust; he flailed like a clown.
He whined and he tweeted and he fumed a lot.
He worried about Mueller; he might get caught.
“I hate all these leakers. I hate all these snitches.
I hate these investigators who are hunting up witches.
So what if I lie? I know what to do when there's trouble.
I lie more and more, then blame others to redouble.”
The Trump became giddy. He hair rose like a flame.
As the voices in his head said he should have no shame.
He stuck out his chin and began to beat on his chest.
He trusted only himself cause he loved himself best.
The Trump peered out the window at the national mall
He saw elms and willows standing proud and tall.
“I hate all those animals. I hate all those trees.
I’d like to cut them all down as fast as you please.”
"All those greenies and do-gooders just want to save em.
I say let’s pulp em and burn em and then let’s pave em.”
The Trump began to mumble even more than in days.
His double chin bulged, his bloodshot eyes looked crazed.
"I don’t like the birds. I don’t like the bees.
I’m allergic to nature. The breeze makes me sneeze.
I don’t like windmills. I don’t like wild fish.
I want to be an emperor so I can have every wish.”
"I would dig up more coal. I’d dam more water.
I would drill for more oil. I’d send more species to slaughter.
So what if storms are worse and the climate has changed?"
The more he got unhinged, the more he sounded deranged.
“They all know I’m God’s gift. All the women adore me.
Except that one woman, the one called Stormy.
Plus all the others who tried to sue me.
Ha. I bought them off before they could screw me.”
"And I hate all those people who hate my big wall.
I think I'll jail more mothers and kids from winter to fall.
They think I’m a moron, that I can't tell a verb from a noun.
They want good government. I’ll give them a shutdown.”
"What I need is a boost. I want a shiny new tower.
I’ll show those Democrat jerks who has real power!"
But as the light grew dark he sensed he wasn’t alone.
“Melania, is that you? Is that you, Roger Stone?”
"Or is it Marla? Or Vlad? Are you Ivana’s ghost?
Have you come to praise me, or to tell me I’m toast?
Are all my lies and false facts and outright corruption
going to drown me like a superstorm of climate disruption?"
"I know my brain is too small and my heart is too teeny.
I know my fingers are too short and I’ve been a meanie.
I know that I’ve been quite Scroogy, that I’ve been a Grinch.
It’s not my fault. It’s too easy. It’s such a cinch."
"No matter how big my lies, people just want more.
So I lie again and again until my throat is sore.
And I blame everyone else, like Bill and Hillary.
And Muslims and Mexicans, who I love to pillory."
"Wait, I have a thought. I think I see the light.
I think I know what to do to make it all right.
I’ll bring home the troops while I pick another fight.
That could distract the hounds. That just might."
Then a little voice whispered, “Trump, this is Sean Hannity."
I know how to spare you from jail and save your vanity.
Tell them you’ve been nuts for years. Just plead insanity.
But do it politely. Don’t use any profanity."
"We’ll sneak in a sub who was Trump before Trump.
He’ll fool all the fools, he’ll stump all the chumps.
Just like you, he loves to rant and to rage.
And he needs a job. We’ll get Paul LePage."
“Sean, you’re a peach. I think we should do it.
Paul will do lots of damage, just like Scott Pruitt.
By the time they impeach, I’ll be gone. That makes sense.
They’ll be stuck with that other guy, what’s his name Pence."
"The hounds may track me south to Mar-a-Lago
But they’ll never look to find me in Santiago.
I’ll rise yet again to make America great.
South America, that is. I always wanted to migrate."

Posted on Tuesday, December 25, 2018 (Archive on Tuesday, January 15, 2019)
Posted by Jym St. Pierre   Contributed by Jym St. Pierre
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