Don comes up against the Democrats, and they keep on stonewalling him. It’s lucky (and a relief) Don remains so restrained and constrained.

Childs Play.

Into each life a little rain must fall
And for Donny it has begun to spit,
He can’t get his way and get his wall,
Aww, poor babe, Don can’t get over it.

When it’s the rich privileged life you live,
Of having it made, and always being obeyed,
When it’s always take take take and never give
Don’t tell Don to take lemons and make lemonade.

Don asks for nothing more
Than to simply have his way,
So off he goes, and slams the door-
Left, and gone with nothing good to say.

But it is not Don’s way to quietly sit and pout,
To sob in silence, save for the tears sad patter patter,
And so, in true tantrumpian fashion Don lets it all out-
Taking all that crap against his wall ain’t no piddling matter.

Advertisements

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.

Mad Dog Mattis leaves the madness behind. What could the first draft of his resignation letter have looked like?

Dear Don,
I hope you can dispense
With your Secretary of Defence.
Sir, could not your thick wall be a fence?
A wall built on a base foundation, at great expense
Looks dense.

Sir, I must say, with all due deference
Your flipping policies make no fu- flipping sense,
So after forty years of service serving six presidents
Preserving my reputation- and sanity- takes preference.
No offence.

Don and Rex; From great minds thinking alike to a parting of the ways. And mutual dislike.

Sticks And Stones.

Months after Tillerson was hired                                                                                                           Don says he hasn’t performed as required                                                                                         Now the man Donald made Secretary of State                                                                                   Has left his bossy-boots boss irascible and irate.

One must feel for poor dumb old Rex                                                                                                        A simple stumblebum beset by  flaws and defects,                                                                                  But if a rectal re-arrangement is what Rex must face                                                                      What ass placed him in that position in the first place?

Donald’s ending his year in his own inimitable way. As a weary caravan of refugees troop towards his USA, he’s sending out his own troops to welcome them.

Northern Lights.

Through the barren desert, dry and parched
The rag tag rebellious revolutionaries marched,
Towards the Grande prize they’d set their course-
To be met by Dons army and promises of lethal force.

Among the weary mothers and children Don has detected
Gangs of ‘bad guys’ from whom his States must be protected,
Now at the border his good ol’ boys look out, keen and alert,
They’re gonna protect his holy ground from the Mexican dirt.

It was late in the year, late at night on the Twenty Fourth
A keen-eyed trooper saw a sinister bearded figure heading north,
A flare went up, then a shot, then fusillades filled the air-
Donald would’ve been proud to see the rockets’ red glare.

The sun rose on a smouldering desert, deathly still,
The soldier boys had indulged in a bit of over-kill,
By the border fence, battered and broken as a pinata
Lay the latest sad-sack border hopping bloody martyr.

No one gets in the Great States undocumented,
But this is one under fire Alien who’ll be long lamented,
Sadly for the good children North of the border wall
Santa is officially late, and henceforth, unable to call.

Don goes to Paradise. Don’t he and Governor Jerry Brown checking out the fire damage make an incongruous pair?

Trouble In Paradise?

Over Paradise falls a dark and stifling pall,
The President has decided to call,
He’s in a Blue State, showing humanitarian concern,
It’s enough to make his red Republican heart burn.

The sight is enough to make Don hyperventilate-
That senseless loss of all that high-end real estate.

As Don steps around the smoking debris
His discomfiture is plain for all to see,
Don can barely stand to be seen walking beside Jerry Brown,
His burning desire is to hot foot it out of town.

Though we see Don and Jerry standing together
Any friendship will prove as fickle as the weather.

This place is not where Don wants to dwell,
This piece of Paradise has gone to Hell,
He’s fielding a few burning questions from the few townsfolk,
Don cannot wait to get his butt back to the Big Smoke.

Don leaves, with, as an afterthought, a prayer-
Usually offered when smoke and cordite fill the air.