Thank you for your deep thoughts, Fraser Anning,
No thanks, for the Right wing flames you’re fanning,
He condemns all violence, yet his dry eye darkly gleams,
For him it’s only the Right who can be left to go to extremes.
He’s saddened by Mosque shootings but
It’s not time to keep his diplomatic gob shut,
He’ll illuminate us of what we’ve been blind to;
Words Fraser has long had half a mind to.
First his ‘final solution’ speech brought screeches of indignation
From even Pauline Hanson and her all-inclusive One Nation,
But stating the victims of a Mosque shooting are to blame
Guarantees Fraser strolls straight into the Hall of Shame.
Ann Coulter says we have an idiot for a President,
Not many, if any Liberals knew she could be so prescient,
Quite an outre thing to say by the far too Right Ms. Coulter,
They may be forever foes but, for today, few Left can fault her.
Donald is off on his latest low-down undertaking,
He needs money to fix a crisis, of his own making,
The Army of law’n’order fans of his border wall
Will now see Don pillaging Peter to pay Paul.
Building walls up was easy to say in an election run
But getting Mexico to pay is easier said that done,
He keeps calling about the millions of dollars they owe,
Not one ‘Hola’ has he got from the President of Mexico.
It matters not to Don that the funds are misappropriated
Or that real Democracy has been truly desecrated,
What do you expect when the megalomaniac you elect
Injudiciously, sadly, madly must get his vanity project?
Donald stood to give his State of the Union speech,
Deep into ‘Mericans hearts and minds he’d reach,
Mike Pence sat on Don’s right, beaming with pride,
And Nancy Pelosi off to his left, the thorn in his side,
Donald’s latest pain in the breech.
As Don talked of working as one, of bipartisanship
The stout lectern trembled in his white-knuckled grip,
And when he spoke of compromise, of give and take
Both lectern and Nancy inwardly groaned ‘gimmie a break,’
Then back to familiarity Don began to slip.
Praises to his great Presidency he long and hubristically sung,
Every drop of fear about his precious border he wrung,
For eighty odd minutes he ploughed over once hallowed ground
But not Don nor his base heard that echoing empty vessel sound,
‘Nary a flicker of doubt ’bout that forked tongue.