O, Donny Boy, Your Gripes, Your Gripes Are Galling

I’m really not a fan of slam poetry, but I thought I’d give it a try anyway, something to do to while away the interregnum. 

Look up at your TV screens, it’s a turd, it’s a pain, it’s Donald Trump, reality TV star President who has lowered the bar on truth, justice, the American way, a fat-ass Superman wannabe, who can’t stand up straight, much less fly, doesn’t care if we live or die, calls the pandemic a gimmick, has updated the leech with bleach, this snake oil salesman extraordinaire (who claims to be a billionaire, but is drowning in debt way over his head while flooding the nation in blood red ink). Think, he can’t even drink a glass of water with one hand, shuffles down that ramp like a senile Diogenes without a lamp, spreading the seeds of dishonesty, a living embodiment of depravity, in a gaslit nation in need of a vacation. His. It’s way past time to concede.

8 thoughts on “O, Donny Boy, Your Gripes, Your Gripes Are Galling

  1. Thanks for some truth. Why do so many not see this creep for what he is?
    Still hard to believe half the country voted for him. I find I have little tolerance for those people. He’s the worst person let alone president. ..and can’t even concede when he’s lost.
    Terrible and dangerous.

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