‘My NRA comrades-in-arms, times are fraught,
Rally to this call to alms, hand us your support,
A certain someone’s turned to Vegas as a last resort
And left us with the repercussions and a nasty report.
So, with wounds still raw and feelings overwrought
Now it’s time to practice what our forefathers taught,
To cherish old traditions for which they slaved and fought,
NOW is not the time to talk Control, perish (ahem) the thought.
Now you take your time to reflect, maintain silence and comport-
As the painful headlines fade, the peoples memory grows short;
Then we’ll be spendin’ time at Congress and the Supreme Court,
Every gun totin’ donation helps prove justice can be bought.’
To those DACA children who Donald loves so dear;
He has news for you, news you won’t wish to hear,
Yes, yes, he loves you but his actions make it clear
He’d love you twice as much were you not here.
All those barriers your parents crossed,
Their permits and passports unembossed,
Now Don has costed what his wall will cost
His words of guidance to stray kids is- get lost.
It’s not right to say Don simply does not care,
But DACA kids are brown, and to Don that’s not fair,
Americans deserve to dream, so you get the nightmare;
Don fervently hopes you’ll ALL make fine citizens- over there.
When he was polishing his ball out on his course
Don found he had the the time to talk of applying force,
Off on vacation, still chipping away, Don began to ponder
On launching things other than balls into the wild blue yonder.
Part of Dons game is matching fire with fire
But when Kim hears Dons voice his rises higher,
To Donald it’s merely vainglorious sabre rattling,
More obnoxious oafish juvenile bully-boy prattling.
Dons crazy talk is reciprocated by Kim Jong Uns,
Anyone listening knows they’re both Loony Tunes,
And so Donalds words, so lacking in diplomatic grace,
Fulsome words full of braggadocio, blow up in his face.
Do Dons thoughts turn to Melania and Ivanka
As he self-pityingly putters around in his bunker?
Seems Kim had found Dons gentle joshing… annoying;
The anger from their fallout is more than Seoul destrying.
I watch the doings of our leaders, so sage and wise,
I shake my head, give a heartfelt sigh and roll my eyes,
Once I used to rant and rave but today that’s not my style,
Now I only offer a word to them wise-guys, and a sardonic smile.
Back then their clodhopping missteps and monumental errors
Had me waking, screaming in my bed, gripped by night terrors,
No more sitting in sweaty (sometimes slightly soiled) nightshirts,
Now on Fluoxetine I feel fine- apart from the odd bout of weltshmerz.