you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump

your pitiful braggart
mean as a cuss
a bludgeon for a mouth
with a mind full a ****

its understood
you hate the press
you like the shadows
to relieve your stress

well big boy
you are the man
some people say
your loved by the clan

thanks for telling us
about the size of your *****
while conservatives smile
and give it a lick

your a star studded pageant
of confusion and lies
do you work for Putin
are you one of his spies

show us your taxes
are you a ***** for a foe
are you owned by a devil
we need to know

your purging the swamp
is that what you say
Exxon and Goldman-sax
so thats how you play

you talk so big
why not give it a rest
lets see what you can do
besides be a pest

it doesn't bode well
that you don't pay your bills
let subcontractors go under
so what if it kills

break up some families
of Latin decent
with a heart like a razor
are you really that bent

are you big blabber mouth
but don't a have clue
about our constitution
that keeps us true

we trust you completely
let your kids to the job
no problem at all
are you still friends with the mob

are ethics for others
ah to hard for Trump
will America wither
are you cancerous lump

we need some one
who can help us out
not a reckless fool
that fills us with doubt

you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump

In this entire world there is none to be trustworthy
Near, dear ones are chained in their vested interests
Every move is calculated to take all fruit of the tree
Internally hypocrites portray externally the sophists

Trust is a that rare commodity sold on need to fulfill
Personal desires fully covered with just lust and greed
Honesty is taken to the altar time and again is to ****
Every relation is of need which in hatred brings bread

Human have many faces of animals hidden in cover
Their so called innocence is covered under the lust
Throughout ones life one is never ever but to discover
Because eyes are ***** and hearts are in complete dust

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

In stories we are bound
language connecting
lives intersecting
repeating their meaning
hearing, feeling,
smelling, and seeing
as clearly as the words
can be understood.

In stories we lose strangers.
All things foreign
become familial.
Blood spilt,
arms in chains,
cotton picked,
rocks are broken
on the chain gang,
grown men hanged
on strong trees
opposite of Calvary
because there is no
salvation to see.
White sheets
are worn by
posturing fools
who hide their identity
to terrorize
with violence and lies;
These stories unite
empower some to rise
up against those who victimize.

In stories we should hear
the cries of refugees,
parents and children
running from the bombing
of their homeland,
cities and towns
broken down
to rubble, chaos, and fear,
hard working people
struggling to survive,
trying to get by
to feed those they love,
to get enough,
for a home,
for a chance.
Good people
gentle, funny, friendly,
they are you and me
just existing in different skins.

In stories we see
human factories
dark towers spewing
white clouds
once human.
Hateful hands salute
fascist authority.
David’s star beats
over human hearts,
while Jews walk with
Gypsies, Gays,
Intellectuals
and other Dissidents,
people being called rodents.
Yet, a child’s diary
offers tears and hope
cause despite her pain
she still believes
something that
frequently eludes me

In stories we should see
how history repeats,
learning our lessons well
we should steady ourselves
and be prepared
for the hatred,
for the rhetoric,
for the lies repeated
woven in the tapestry
of violence,
spun in the artistry
of reshaping history
to suit their greed,
to pluck the seed
of humanity
before it ever touches ground
seeing them rip the
forbears of goodwill
from the ground.

In stories we should be reborn,
rebuilding bridges
while tearing down
the walls and borders.
So, we don’t have to jump over.
We can just offer helping hands.
No soldier left behind
because no soldier is sent to war.
No child left to starve
because we know what
science is for,
to grow and explore
not to gain more
materiel things
but to expand our minds
and find new and greater dreams.

In stories we realize
we are human
egotistical yes
but it is the best place to start
to unbury damaged heart,
to open closed eyes
and see the sky,
to help all people fly
soaring together
not forever,
but until the universe
unwinds, ending time
and we become
untold stories
in the void.

However am I expected,
When a criminal is elected,
Not to be depressed?
I’m certainly not impressed.
We began to make strides
To set ignorance aside
Then along came the jerks
To destroy all our works,
To protect the weak and sick,
With lies and political tricks.

By the time those fools awake
The crooks will surely take
Our country to the brink
And watch it slowly sink
Then they’ll blame it on us
Who didn’t raise enough fuss
To keep their twisted games
And their feet to the flames.
Instead we’ll watch defeat
Throw us all into the street.

Why can’t people understand
That by not helping our land
And the people that live here
And giving into bogus fears
We are putting big money in
To the pockets of those who win.
By denying any help and aid
To those who actually paid
Will make the rich much richer
And then they’ll break the pitcher?

The pitcher of milk and honey
Has become nothing but money
Because the poor suffering
Makes them trust the muttering
Of those who prefer to blame
Than investigate the game
That is played on us all
And that causes the fall
When wealth takes control
And digs us further into a hole.