No joke. I am elated.
I only found out today.
From the August 29 article
Donald Trump, Poetic Muse:
While some poets are tentatively positive (“Call me a chump / But I’m with Trump”), the vast majority register negative reactions to Trump and his candidacy. These include shock (“Today I woke up and smoked / A cigarette of something illegal / And I freaked out / Because / Donald Trump is running for president”); scatological disdain (“Trump dumped on his rump / Hair lumped in a clump”); determined opposition (“We must now thwart the hatred”); escapism (“If Trump wins / I’m moving to Iceland / While he wreaks havoc on the states / I’ll be in Reykjavik eating steak”); and cleverly rhymed condescension (“The mallard was rebuked by Mitt; / adversaries began to bray. / The ducklings murmured: guy’s unfit / to be elected anyway”).
The article continues, and quoted me again here:
Not all the poems about the Presidential candidates pick a side.
One, called “Dual Airbags,” simply bemoans the choice at hand:
“It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried) / So shall we now be Trumped or Hillary-ed?”
The first poem was from that period when Trump was attacking Cruz and Rubio:
Música Cubana ♪ ♬
Donald quacks. We better duck.
Tell the Cubans to mute that trumpet
While we, together, improve our luck
(or end up ruled by a Socialist Strumpet.)
The mallard was rebuked by Mitt;
adversaries began to bray.
The ducklings murmured: guy’s unfit
to be elected anyway...
The second was written later, as I tried to decide, and lyrically deride, my electoral suicide:
Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots
Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.
No black shirts visible. Just business suits,
and pride is restored: tragic but funny.
Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin
Babylonian promises, towering lies
Reality shows when plutocrats win,
Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.
She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep
behave predictably, eyeing the flock
Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep
Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.
It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)
So shall we now be Trumped or Hillary-ed?
Not only a poet but an iconoclast….
And most likely a poetic outcast as well.
Thank you for visiting and fight the good limerick war with all you’ve got.
That’s huge! Where are all the congrats? A million and 1 congratulations.
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Thank you, Poetry Channel.
Your readership is appreciated.
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