Snakes On A Plane.
His final flight is ready to take off,
The ex-President is set to snake off,
His eyes look out, dark, cold, reptilian,
Farewell, you contemptible low con man.
Fly away to your welcome in Mar-A-Lago,
Fly, fly off, off to to your hidey-hole you go,
Go to ground, wait for the storm to pass...
Natural, for an old snake in the grass.
A man is known by the company he's among,
So visitors, cock an ear for a f-f-forked tongue,
Hisss twisted words hark back to original sin,
And he sheds friends as he does his thin skin.
So Don, slip out and lay back 'neath the Florida sun,
Relax, uncoil, your long retirement has just begun,
Or scale back the sun bed regime, let down your hair
Then slither under a rock and stay- at home- there.
‘Warning- Contains Lingering Traces Of Venemous Vitriol.’
They talked of changes in the neighbourhood...
Still, its breathtaking how swift it's come about,
That unwelcome squatter hung in as long as he could
But patience has run its course, he's been turfed out.
The last big ass U-Haul truck idles at the back door,
All the furnishings of House and Office packed away,
One last look, a heavy sigh echoes round the empty floor,
It's a Sad day being told you've overstayed your stay.
He'd done his very worst to extend his lease,
He'd searched for an escape clause to no avail ,
He'd not leave, not without forever saying his piece;
Threaten him with debtors prison, he won't bail.
Yet more misdemeanors to add to his damning list;
Sending rude messages, annoying parties all night long,
Breaches of the peace, refusals to cease and desist,
Ignoring calls to tone down what just sounds wrong.
The dumb dude simply will not see sense
So his crew of party pals quietly dwindled,
Facebook 'friends' deleted his comments-
Too many to repeat claims he's been swindled.
But this guy's used to acting with reckless impunity,
So now to be told by sumbitch he'd backed as a friend
That your excesses upset the best of the community,
'You and your terrible properties have been condemned.'
It's bad enough being told you just must leave-
Oh, the ignominy of a common squalid eviction,
Once secure, at home, going now is too hard to believe -
And threatened with criminal trespass, with real conviction.
The prime location of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Cannot be cheaply bought, it can merely be rented;
Thence after four years there comes a tenancy review,
And friends and neighbours have become discontented.
He's proved he's not the best of Housekeepers,
This whole historic property he's badly mismanaged,
Unfinished walls, the surrounds ass-deep in creepers,
Our once firm foundations cracked and damaged.
So wave cheery-bye to the ex-President,
He's off to his latest guilt-edged address,
Now let's welcome in a better-suited resident
And hope he cleans up that Losers! unholy mess.
Please Explain Letter.
The Republicans received this letter, signed and sealed,
Its creased and crumpled contents can now be revealed;
A missive from the President that actually appealed?
'My loyal friends, some think Your President may have erred,
Given a speech that rabble-roused, not patriotically stirred,
It's my sworn duty to tell you 'That's not what I heard."
'My Great impromptu speech fairly rattled along,
It's possible I may have come on a little strong,
But dare I say, few with me will say I did anything wrong.'
'I'm obliged to say I did not rashly stir up that crowd,
But Boys, if you do trash talk let's make it loud and Proud,
And everyone knew I meant 'Only peaceful protesting allowed."
'Some days when my loyal crowd is baying
'Midst the banners waving and the spittle spraying
They might not hear my plea- hear what I'm saying?'
'Naturally, I'd like to say I filled a Presidential role,
I even said I'd join em on a quiet downtown stroll,
I'd heard that mob was well acquainted with Con/troll.'
'I thought at the Capitol they were bound to halt;
Words failed me when I saw 'em up and revolt,
Anyways, what I can say is 'That ain't my fault."
'As they slid into anarchy so did my heart lift sink,
After years of dog-whistling and tipping the wink
Who am I to call out that mob, tell 'em what to think?'
'We all know when I go off my Scripts I tend to be blunt
But the backsliding from you I take as a personal affront,
C'mon, we know I've still time to conduct my own Witch Hunt.'
'So, my trusted friends, lets laugh off this vote to impeach,
I'll try to clean up the excesses of my all-too free speech;
Since you all swallowed that joke I injected about bleach.'
'Once we all sang from the same song sheet,
Your constant chorus of praise rang so sweet,
Now I don't hear a peep, not one damned tweet.'
'Sorry if my sorry speech caused you sorrow
But I hope 'n' pray you'll say Right by me tomorrow,
And by the way, anyone got a Bible I can borrow?'
As Don's 'unlawfully dishonourable' judgement nears
By a jury of, Donald could never say, of his peers,
Another letter of explanation- in Capitals- appears...
'My Followers, though you and I are Much Maligned
NO Lawlessness, NO Vandalism NO Violence of Any Kind.'
A better letter would have simply said he's resigned.
If there's one thing Don can still flat-out refuse
It's believing in a crazy world where he can lose,
He remains deeply, thickly fixed in his fake views.
'Nancy's talk of impeachin' me is nasty, not nice,
MAGA friends, might this half-hearted apology suffice?
Or must I humbly beg your pardon twice?'
As the whole wide-eyed wigged-out world looks on
What thoughts idly flit through the 'mind' of Don?
Anarchy and sedition are the least of his concerns,
The Biggest Zero titters while Democracy burns.
A day after another inauspicious red letter day-
150,000 Coronavirus victims went on their way-
Donald turns away from figures that make him squirm
And focuses his GreaT mind on securing a second term.
Dons polling is of concern, despite what he does say,
From where he sits perhaps its time to kneel and pray?
Or since Roger Stone’s now free to come up with a suggestion
He’ll open the whole Democratic Election system into question?
In his empowered position Don feels a powerful need to stay,
So now’s no better time to suggest just a slight election day delay,
An election free of mail voting, who could think of anything greater?
Like his Pandemic plan Don vows he’s bound to get to it, sooner or… later.
Donald sat down to do another fawning Fox interview
But Wallace tried to keep Don on the straight and true,
Don responded with his usual pouting pique and rancour-
This was not the usual unctuous behaviour of a Fox anchor!
Chris had upset the finest of well-scripted double acts,
Swiftly Don back-handed Wallace his ‘alternative facts,’
Don was petulant, peeved pissed off and confounded-
No President willingly trots out onto Fox to be hounded.
Don doesn’t wish to to illuminate, he prefers dark misdirection,
To confuse, obfuscate, divide and misrule to wangle another election,
Leaving Don sweating in the spotlight ain’t what Chris is paid to do;
Donald’s memo strongly suggests a change in Foxes personnel is due.
Has our unmasked hero decided to stand up?
Donnny says he has masked up and manned up,
He says that mask makes him look like the Lone Ranger-
No more will he be laughing loonily in the face of danger.
But the Lone Ranger wore his mask to cover his eyes Not as a medical protector but as a personal disguise,
Then, Don feared wearing a mask wouldn’t look Presidential, right?
Pushing a mouth mask up over his peepers, now don’t he look a sight?
Hey, even getting Don to consider any mask ranks as a bonus-
As his long-standing contemptuous sniffing at Corona’s shown us-
So even if he stumblingly emerges from the darkness, dimly blinking
At least it’s one baby-step on his journey out of blind blinkered thinking.
So ex-mayor Mike’s power jump has failed,
Those high White House walls remain unscaled,
His late ill-founded but well-funded quest
Has seen a cool half billion bucks go West.
So, no Presidency for poor saintly Mike,
Too many found there’s not much to like.
For a mighty rich man it’s a humbling thought-
Even a Trump tarnished presidency cain’t be bought,
Or perhaps the Big Apple is sick of GreaT big talkers,
One old rich white ass is enough for most New Yorkers.
Mike’s taken a costly kick in the pants, and a civil censure,
His overly frisky bad cop stops still proving a risky venture.
A senate full of Don’s defenders grimace with success,
All smiles (and witnesses) they’ve managed to suppress,
Just so Donald won’t be tossed out of his current address,
Ask Don if Justice has been served, he’ll say ‘Damn well, yes.’
As the court rises and the Judge world-wearily sums up
Mitch sits and hopes his magical red number comes up,
If two Republicans won’t raise their hands or their bums up
They sore will when Mitch gives ’em a double thumbs up.
So Don is proclaimed innocent and he is freed to go
Dishing out fear and loathing to both friend and foe,
One thing Mitch’s shi pitiful no-show-or-tell trial does show
Is if Bolton wants to give you a good deal on Don- just say no.