Category Archives: tweet

The President has some reason to get angry. Its hard to reason with him when he gets angry. Now, you wouldn’t like him when he gets angry. So don’t set him off.

Stomping Ground.

Don sat in the Stateroom
Filled with impending doom.

He sighed, set down the remote,
Today even Fox sounded a false note.

He fiddled with a classified file,
Life’s becoming quite the trial.

He would find it hard to explain,
This bit of business in the Ukraine.

Now how he rued the day
Everyone heard what he had to say.

How Zelensky’s voice began to fall
When he got the message in Don’s call.

Zel’s tiny voice on the telephone
Till drowned out by his own.

Looking guiltily at the transcript
He wish he’d stayed tight-lipped.

He dropped that damning folder,
A righteous rage began to smoulder.

He’d dealt from a position of strength,
Their wanted arms he’d kept at arms length.

No guarantee of a shipments arrival
Till given ammo to fire at a political rival.

If a Biden took offence, Don meant none-
No offence, Hunter, you son of a – gun.

He thought he’d done the deal
Till some whistle-blower had to squeal.

He’d release the funds… given time.
Since when’s a white lie a capital crime?

So, Don had asked for a personal favour?
Rudy swears that ain’t criminal behaviour.

Still, there’s plenty left to impeach,
So how to cover (t)his unseemly breach?

How to take a Presidential stance
When filling your big boys pants?

His blue eyes cloud with dawning dread,
He alone has to own the words he said.

But a secret of this size…
All those accusatory eyes…

How to dim their focus?
Try a lil’ hocus-pocus.

It’s a well-worn trick
For a dealer who’s slick.

It’s been done before;
Instigate a bloody war.

He’ll kick his foot soldiers into action,
Smoke and mortars, a fine distraction.

He opens an Army Intelligence dossier,
Something therein might make his day.

He holds the answer in his hands;
Shift the blame on shifting sands.

But Donny sees time is short,
Let’s give it not a second thought.

With a bad man on the loose
Don needed no excuse.

He took what Intelligence he had
And took it out on Bagdad.

A little lacking in tact,
But hardly a war-like act.

Don don’t see it as an excursion
And hopes few see it as a diversion.

Yes, ‘Merica might lose a grunt or two,
But impeachment takes on a distant view.

And, what could go wrong?
We weren’t in Viet Nam long.

That little dust-up in Afghanistan?
That all went according to plan.

The lessons learnt a few years back,
Of riding in and razing Iraq?

After sifting through the smoking ground,
All those masses of weapons to be found?

Though they’d disappeared into hot thin air
Still Don has determined to go there.

Sad to think that, true to form
He’ll unleash another shit Desert Storm.

He’ll fight on until calls for his head cease,
C’mon, he’ll take on anyone who wants a peace.

Few allies want to join his charade  crusade,
How to extricate himself from the mess he’s made?

‘Merica’s allies now don’t think he’s so great,
They’re more concerned ’bout some mental State.

So who, truly, are his friends?
Pal Putin says, ‘that depends.’

And what happens when the dust clears
And his fear of impeachment reappears?

Will he tweet a sorry word?
Will further action be ordure-d?

Will others suffer from his wrath
Or can Don take the higher path?

Don’s more familiar with the low road,
But will his little fingers press the code?

Will Don dazzle us by doing right
Or frazzle us in a flash of light?

Don’s sins I must forgive and forget,
God, please let me live with that regret.

Don’s words are too toxic to call out,
What earthly good is risking his fall out?

A wholly righteous war is easy to start,
Surviving one remains the hardest part.

 

©Obbverse

Losing faith in a tin potty mouthed God? Thoughts after Don went to the fight.

Revelation.

The mildest of gosh darned blasphemies
Once drove Right(eous) evangelists to their knees,
Now that they have accepted Trump as their Savior
They’ll have to accept his unpardonable behavior.

After Stormy they really needed Gods advice,
Should not an amorous adulterer pay a stiff price?
The true believers of Trump use that inspired line-
‘To err is human, but to forgive Don, divine.’

But have even the devoutest disciples begun
To question the veracity of their ill-Chosen one?
Good Lord, what would sweet Jesus do if he heard
Don tweet and repeat that Motherf***er of a word?

The President is known to speak forthrightly
But a drunken sailor could speak more politely,
Are a few ex-believers now feeling voters remorse
Hearing Dons rude attempts at social intercourse?

I’m of a Conservative mind,
In Gods words comfort I find,
But if I use my God given-brain
I can’t forgive Don the Profane.

Hallelujah, the scales have fallen from my eyes-
His words and (Miss) deeds serve only to demonise-
That Motherf***er word rings loud and clear,
I’m the victim of believing in a false profiteer.

Now Don’s tweets are down to another level,
He sounds less demi-god than foul mouthed devil,
It’s dispiriting to find Dons not a blessing, but perverse,
And hearing that Motherf***er is a God-awful curse.

 

©Obbverse

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.

 

©Obbverse

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 here and ponder at the wonder about me.

 

©Obbverse

Trumps new target, basketballs LeBron James- This is going to be less a genteel game, more a free-for-all.

Textbook Play.

Is Donald a good sport when it comes to fun and games?
Not when he’s going tweet to tweet with LeBron James,
Don fakes, he twists, he spins to the Right- true to form;
Again poor sport Don has started a pointless twit storm.

 

©Obbverse

I guess I’m gonna have to eat my words. Don wuz right about this fake news stuff after all. Iran, citizenship, Obama, lies- hard to believe, I know!

Foxing Around The Edges.

From his Great nights sleep Don slowly stirred,
He switched on the TV, to the channel preferred,
Some find Fox’s hyperbole hilariously absurd
But the President truly takes ’em at their word.

What a fine story greets the Great One on waking,
A secret Obama/Iranian dodgy deal Fox is breaking,
What a deplorable dirty tale Don can see, in the making,
The candor of Fox’s journalism is, frankly breath-taking.

Ain’t it a pity for Don truth was all the fable lacked,
The news he gleefully Tweeted Fox can scarcely retract,
The whole sorry story was false, FAKE NEWS, in fact;
One wonders if Don wants those Fox fibbers sacked?

Forget about six degrees of separation, Don does a yet another 180 degree spin. Double-speak strikes again!

Don’s Signature Magic Marker.

Don’t dare cross Dons unwelcoming border,
You’re crossing his line and his express order,
Donald wants your sort kept South of the wall,
He has zero sympathy for illegals, large or small.

But after Don separates mother and child
He finds he has zero tolerance for being reviled,
When his borderline cruelty becomes a national disgrace
Donald turns to his his rarely used caring compassionate face…

What was impossible for Don to rescind yesterday
With one wave of the presidential pen becomes child’s play,
If his freewheeling back-flips make his tweets hard to follow
How much tougher are his foot-in-mouth missteps to swallow?

Donald on the down-low; Stormy Daniels getting the cash, McCabe getting the push. Who says Don is a petty President?

Lies In The Eyes Of The Beholder.

Donald was all for political leaks
In the elections frantic final weeks,
Then a whistle-blower was a patriot,
Now Donald is President, they’re not.

Since Donald’s butt is in the hot seat
All he does is bleat and Tweet,
Now Donald’s no whistle-blowers friend,
Demanding all this disloyalty must end.

Andy McCabe spoke out of turn
And is the latest one to learn
That Donald brooks no dissension
If you want to collect your pension.

Yes, it’s best for you to stay mute
About Donald and some massively cute
Woman he came accross on the golf course;
Don doesn’t want to cough up for a divorce.

No, best to keep that story hushed,
Don might emerge red and flushed,
When it comes to a marital moral lapse
Don is keen to keep it all under wraps.

Dons lawyer has done his expensive best
For Stormy to keep it close to her expansive chest;
Could Melania believe its all a storm in a double DD cup?
Don should’ve busted the bank to stop this going ti-… belly up.

 

A(nother) shooting at a ‘Merican school and the President knows who to blame and what to say. Also, what it pays not to say.

Default Setting.

Yet another school shooting in Florida leaves us numb,
From the President the prayers and platitudes come,
More fretting and flapping of Trumpian gums
Followed by a frenzy of twittering thumbs.

Don is rightly upset about what some crazed kid has done,
Though the conclusion he arrives at sure is a strange one,
Oh so many sorrowful words for lost daughters and sons;
And not one single syllable about the madness of guns?