On Twitter, late at night, you’re a big tough guy
calling people out and spitting in their eyes.
But in the real world - you blubber and you blunder,
like inside your head there’s a fire in the dumpster.
Your call to drink Lysol was a typical, deadly, Trump proffer -
your handling of the pandemic an incompetent slaughter.
In the face of unrest you pour fuel on the fire -
a dead BLACK man? You're a trouble amplifier.
Texting on Twitter you’re a liar and a punk -
when trouble breaks out, you hunker in a bunker.
You’re America’s undertaker, our commander-and-thief -
a living, breathing catastrophe - leading America disastrously.
A Trump, twitter and coronavirus poem