Category Archives: Mar-a-Lago

Donald Trump is moving to Florida. It seems New Yorkers have not been ‘nice’ enough to him. You can guarantee Governor DeSantis will be on his knees putting out the welcome mat.

Shady Acres.

Donald’s upping sticks and leaving his home town,
He’s set his mighty mind on moving South and down,
Sunny Florida is where he wants to go,
Home sweet home, Mar-a-Lago.

He’s heartily sick of crawling traffic and stalling rents,
Don’s grass looks greener on the other side of the fence,
Don no longer seeks the Big Apples seedy streets,
He’s at home, on the course, teeing off as he tweets.

A happy new year to one and all. But it’s no holiday to have to work over the holidays, according to some.

Shut Down Till New Year.

Don sits in the dark White House alone and reminisces
Far from his Mar-a-Lago home and his loving missus,
Thinking of what good deeds he’s accomplished in ’18,
Then, of what a wondrous year it could have been.

He turned up the rhetoric at all his rallies
And turned his back on all of our allies.

Those wise-as advisers who came in, so highly vaunted
Left, at his disposal, eyes wide, downcast or haunted,
He’s disgusted his once trusted Lawyer keeps sayin’ he’s lying,
And just why must my learned counsel Mueller keep prying?

I’m all in favour of free speech
But I don’t care to hear ‘impeach.’

Back in ’16 I made a solemn promise I have yet to fulfill,
To build my wall and hand Mexico the six-billion-dollar bill,
It grieves me greatly, friends and neighbours, if I may say so,
To get El Presidente’s middle finger but not one single peso.

Hopefully, soon, good government will resume
Even allowing for the elephant in the room.

Donald, his White House Christmas and me. Merry Christmas Mr President!

Screaming Memememe.

I’m sat at the White House, all alone,
Oh, poor pitiful me,
Just me, at Christmas, I with my phone,
Oh, poor lonesome me.

Being Prez ain’t all tinsel and glitter
Even for wonderful me,
All I have is my GreaT thoughts and Twitter
To accompany me…

Yes, I’m missing out on Melania’s home-cooked meal
Which disagrees with me,
But fortuitously, I’ve worked out a hell of a deal
‘Tween McDonalds and me.

This Christmas I’ve no Kelly, no Mattis
To stifle magnificent me
On troops, policy and other trifling matters,
Oh, impulsive impetuous me.

Here I’m free from their ever-ongoing discussion
That soooooo bores me,
They might as well talk turkey in Chinese- or Russian,
It’s all Greek to me.

Here I’m free of constraints from one and all,
Free to think of only me,
As governments shut down, and my stocks fall
I sit in wonder and wonder about me.

A book launch for Bob Woodward, the doyen of political writers, followed by a measured critique from Don and those- still- at the White House.

Fear And Loathing In Mar-a-Lago.

It’s been two years since the rise of President Trump,
Now he’s experiencing the ol’ half-way slump,
Now the (FAKE!) polls maliciously confirm
All ain’t rosy in the White House at mid-term.

Don was handed Bob Woodwards book,
He unwrapped it with hands that shook
With an endearingly childish sense of anticipation,
He then bent forward to read Bobs dedication…

Don read the fine print with twitching lip,
Words traced by the Presidents fingertip,
Soon he realised the hurtful things Bob said-
After sounding out the words in his head.

With the maturity for which Don is known
He reached for the comfort of his flipping phone,
And after a furious CAPITALISED tweet
Found Bobs home number and pressed ‘delete.’

Upon hearing Dons cry of wounded pride
Ivanka rushed in to the Presidents side,
Jarred stood by, a look of fear in his eye
As unPresidential curses and papers flew by.

Don railed at Bobs charges, completely unfounded,
In a frenzy Donalds desk was dementedly pounded-
We could’ve all been facing an incendiary September
Had the desk top launch code been easier to remember.

With half the White House staff facing eviction
Sarah Huckabee denounces Bobs book as fiction,
While Don goes through Bobs book page by page
Balling ’em in the waste basket, incandescent with rage.

All Don humbly asks of those who ‘advise’ him
Is for ’em to subserviently agree to his every whim,
Don does not take criticism (or Fear) well, I’m afraid-
It’s been his single failing since, oh, Fifth Grade.

As the stock market takes a bit of a dip and stockbrokers get a trifle twitchy, where is the voice of reason to allay all their fears? And ours.

Dow In the Dumps.

As the stock market hit astronomical heights
Donald loudly and proudly took bragging rights,
Came February First and the worm began to turn;
Walls and Wall Street falling cause Don grave concern.

You know The Donald’s feeling sick
When he turns down the rhetoric.

Suddenly Donald’s loquacious lip is zipped,
His air as morose as that at the family crypt,
Donald’s brown study is as silent as a tomb,
A place of rare quiet contemplation, we assume?

Donald is rarely at a loss for something to say,
But Trump stock falling takes his breath away.

When Don’s face and the Dow continued to drop
His self-congratulatory words trundled to a stop,
From the Oracle, the one true prophet comes ‘nary a peep,
Dons sycophants wonder how long he’ll let his dumbness creep?

With his ego though, the silence will be all too brief,
But hasn’t this pause come as a blessed relief?

The President looks into the eye of the storm, and what does he see?

Hitting Home Where It Hurts.

Don watched unhappily as Irma ripped through the Caribbean,
It was enough to whiten the face of the most bronzed Floridian,
In Maryland, monitoring Fox’s monitors his eyes grew ever bigger;
Camp David’s quite close enough to the action for this leading figure.

Donald certainly didn’t mind Cuba taking a hit,
Commies getting blasted worry him not one whit,
But when he sees the Land of the Free is in Irma’s path
Far too much prime Florida Real Estate is in line for a bath.

Now the size of the approaching apocalypse is finally grasped
He kneels, and together two tiny trembling hands are clasped,
A thought for the poor, the homeless, all those lost and scared,
And he prays, like a man possessed… that Mar-a-Lago be spared.