Orange Man Rides

Darkness slays the sun. Descending, he dies.
To hide his glowing countenance and wait;
Until his resurrection flood our skies
With promise of a greater solar state.

Oh mourn and weep, ye gaining shades of night;
An orange sunset lingers in the west.
The trumpet sobs a reveille; the light
Is dwindling on the presidential fest.
And cypresses are sighing in their shame
For Orange Man has forfeited his game.

The technocrats and leftists, as a mass
Opposed his righteous reign with godless spite.
Not once did they relent, but dogged his ass
In jackal-packs still slavering to bite.
And yet he is deplorably adored,
Nor friend nor foe politically bored.

Vile virtue-signalers (with none to show),
Despised all those who dared support his plan;
And prideful with each whining coward blow
Confirmed themselves inferiors to the man.
Pink feminists, at odds with all that’s right
Displayed themselves as pussies in the fight.

They could not stand the mention of his name.
The Globalists and other Euro-trash,
With Luciferian bankers, void of shame,
Resume their one-world plotting in a flash;
Preparing for re-set. (We wish they would
Let God reset them for their own damn good.)

So DRUMPF‘s Fourth Reich must sadly reach its end,
And Jared’s Nazi wife return her shoes.
Trump’s Völkisch warriors shall no more defend
Republics that weak RINOs all refuse;
And Milquetoast Mitt, and Bush, his parting hail
Grown tired of winning, longing yet to fail.

My Einsatzgruppen uniform: no more
To wear the holy garment in my pride.
My shimmering hood and robe I now must store;
Well-pressed, I lay them tearfully aside.
My lynching rope I coil with loving care,
My Ku-Klux armband nevermore to wear.

Alas, the fascist father-figure goes;
His bigot minions, all my own, lament.
Misogynists and racists at the close
Have lost their weary way and all is spent.
He wasn’t dictatorial enough;
We all grew tired of winning. It was tough.

But wait; a zephyr stirs the orange grove.
The dusk has not yet sighed its final breath:
Once more a scent of citrus wafts above . . .
Twas’ premature, their festival of death.
Then TRUMP arises, grinning, from the bier
And all who who wished him gone recoil in fear.

Fresh horror now the adversaries sweeps;
The trembling crypts foreshadow his rebirth.
Progressive politics despairs and weeps
While liberal dread supplants their vengeful mirth.
Then Donald rises, leering like a ghost
To fill with panic every heartless host.

Now Olbermann and Biden gnash their teeth
And roll their wicked eyes like men possessed.
Barrack, Kamala, Hillary (with Keith)
Recall the crimes they have not yet confessed.
What they hailed as light now turns to shadow . . .
Rachel’s children mourn (that’s Rachel Maddow).

Heaven mocks hell—it’s contradictory:
Their dank Egyptian darkness is our light!
Their suicidal rage, our victory
And memes shall mock neurotic left-wing fright.
Your socialistic plans now placed on hold,
While Patriots and God are waxing bold.

Unfit to line the cage of colored fowl
Who twitter on, enraged, in revolution,
White man’s rag, that useless Constitution,
Saves our republic; jackals cease to howl.
The founders planned for such an urgency
Now put to trial in our emergency.

Maybe no need for alternate stanzas (?)
One eye on Clownworld news, one eye on my muse…

(She’s getting jumpy at this point)