That nasty storm Dorian is one mean hurricane,
It’s left the Bahamas behind, but in a world of pain,
Among Florida’s citizenry dark clouds started to form-
Fear not, President Trump has his eye on the storm.
He believes he knows where it will make landfall
And Alabama’s fine folk had better heed his call,
For no matter how hard Mother Nature blows
Wherever Donald proposes is where Dorian goes.
An incredulous gasp is expelled by the weathermen,
Stunned by the Presidents sharp forecasting acumen,
They all believed he’d simply be a meteorological moron,
No doubts now, since he has their maps to draw on.
For all those worried if Donald’s not fit for work, do not be concerned,
The resident genius has been checked out, nothings been discerned,
The McDon is good to go, in brain, heart and other vital body parts,
Its a bona fide medical miracle, with his cholesterol off the charts.
A few do accuse our great President of no work and all play
Yet for Donald signing off on the fifteenth has been no holiday,
It’s grim indeed to see him publicly straining to stick to the script;
Words that, self evidently, privately would leave Trump tight lipped.
Donald Trump goes to a predominantly black church,
How comfortable he looked,he must really be reaching
out for votes. As he says ‘what have you got to lose?’
Sanity, for a start.
I took my pew at my local church
And damned near fell off my perch,
Here I have come to try to find The Light
But what I saw plunged me into deepest night.
I recognized the stranger by his golden hair,
It was that Platinum-carded gilded billionaire,
As he began to sway in an uncomfortable Caucasian way
I clapped my hands together, Heavens how I began to pray.
Lord, I know Your work is shrouded in mystery
But two divorces and flirtations with bankruptcy
Seems damnable behaviour for a Commander-in-Chief
So WHY is he HERE and not in his casino is beyond belief.