Martin Bailes Apr 19

Young Donald is so very bigly hoping
that he can rest his fat golden ass in
the Queen's oh so golden carriage
when he visits those green, green lands
as he's used to sitting on golden stuff
& it makes him feel so very ...
special & important,

he's instructed his minions to pull strings
twist arms & just plain plead for this to be
allowed as he is just all pumped about the
idea of sticking his big orange head out of
the golden carriage so as he can wave to
the adoring multitudes,

it might even be better than the time they
allowed him to sit in that big, big truck &
toot that big, big horn ...

oh my is he excited.

Me ... I hope there's a riotous seething mob
that makes the storming of the bastille look
like a rowdy friday night at the pub,
but me,

I guess I'm just a dreamer.

Martin Bailes Apr 17

Our Great & Wise Leader was just so busy
basking in his omnipotent all-knowingness
& radiating light that reached the four corners
of the world where millions were at this very
moment reflecting on the so, so many Time
covers he'd graced that our Huge Orange One
needed a nudge from his missus to snap him
out of his bigly reverie in which his coffers were
filling, & his bigness was getting bigger & his triumph
over all living beings was being chorused in the very
heavens above,

oh lord he was lost for awhile there as he forgot
to put his hand over his heart
during the anthem,

thanks Melania.

The Trumpoet Apr 1

In West Virginia they dig tunnels or a great big hole,
to extricate from Mother Earth the substance known as coal.
For centuries the coal was burned and smoke would fill the air,
but coal became outmoded and demand's no longer there.

So many miners were laid off as mines did stall or close,
and in Coal Country incomes dropped and unemployment rose.
But Donald Trump made promises to fix the miners' strife,
by saying he'd bring Old King Coal a-roaring back to life.

So Trump reduced the regulations that bring jail or fines
for harm to the environment from power plants or mines.
But all this is irrelevant - Trump has no magic spell
to make the world want coal again. To whom will these mines sell?

Trump may as well have promised to bring back the horse and cart;
for tinkers, whalers, schooner sailors, a rich and brand new start.
For Trump will promise anything and sell his very soul.
Next Christmas his reward should be... a big old lump of coal.

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at:
Link to video of this poem:
Written: April 1, 2017
The Trumpoet Mar 25

Did you support that Donald Trump in his campaign last year?
Why didn't all his hatefulness fill you with dread and fear?
Did you believe his B.S. or did you hate Hillary
so much that you preferred a jerk who likes to grab pu--y?

At some point did you realize the truth he cannot tell,
when he fibbed about inaugural crowds and voter fraud as well?
When he misled you on healthcare, did you finally agree
that lying just like breathing; both come to him naturally?

And what about his henchmen, tangled up with Russian ties
to the Kremlin and the oligarchs, in cahoots with Putin's spies?
When Trump heaped praise on Vladimir, were you just too blind to see,
or did you hope that your leader would be Comrade Trumpsky?

Oh how could this have happened? What an awful, global mess!
A big buffoon's in power, do you finally confess?
Did your vote help to elect him? To the Whitehouse was he sent
because in a fit of madness, you said "Trump for President"?!

'cause in a fit of madness, you said TRUMP-FOR-PRESIDENT?!

This poem can also be sung to the tune of "The Hoedown Song", which was a common feature on Drew Carey's former improvisation show, "Whose Line is it Anyway?". You can see and hear this poem performed with the music on YouTube at

To see a variety of "trumpoems", take a look at
The Trumpoet Mar 19

Donald Trump's unleashed a budget
with fanfare great and loud;
And if you helped elect him
you are, no doubt, standing proud.

Such joy and happiness you'll feel
and oh such special thrills,
to find yourself in bankruptcy
from rising healthcare bills.

With public education trashed,
most kids will come out fools,
but so glad for those richer kids
in better, private schools.

No more funding for the arts,
oh what a lovely treat,
to walk past starving artists out
panhandling on your street.

When you drink water from your tap
and start to gag and choke,
be grateful that the E.P.A.
has gone right up in smoke.

If you're old and your Medicaid
won't cover that prescription,
will "Proud to die before my time"
be on your grave's inscription?

So where will all the savings go
from all this cost reduction?
Be thrilled to know it will buy more
weapons of mass destruction;

and it will build a monument
to Trump, so we will see
a massive wall, so broad and tall,
as useless as is he.

Though into pain and suffering
your country will be slidin',
your vote for Trump has given you
a budget you'll take pride in.

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at:
Link to video of this poem:
Written: March 19, 2017
Martin Bailes Mar 13

ha! yes!
sure as heck I'm not exactly
jumping for joy in these end
days of dying planetary life,
threatened existences, starving
homeless 5 year old Mustafa's,
engaged Supremacists, murdered
black boys, hillbilly junkies, fading
healthcare, America First & talk
of 'our destiny' & bullshit such,

but what am I to do?
Watch Star Trek re-runs & eat ice-cream?
America calls out to be noticed,
& heck what else can we do
but pay attention.

Martin Bailes Mar 13

If you wish the sympathy
of the broad masses, you
must tell them the crudest
& most stupid things,

& it is quite a special secret
pleasure how the people
around us fail to realize
what is really
happening to them,

& make the lie big,
make it simple,
keep saying it,
and eventually
they will
believe it.

& all propaganda must be
popular and its intellectual
level must be adjusted to
the most limited intelligence
amongst those it is
addressed to,

& history comes around
& many of the tried &
trusted methods for
running things just
keep on making
that eternal return
don't they.

The Trumpoet Mar 11

Obama was the nicest guy - Intelligent and cool.
Comparatively speaking, his successor plays the fool.
Ridiculous and baseless tweets, The Donald can't avoid.
His recent missives indicate he's turning paranoid.

Barack Obama seems to be Trump's ongoing obsession.
Obama saved the U.S.A. from Bush-induced recession.
The Donald hates Barack's success and can't leave it alone,
and Trump, now "off the rails", claims Obama bugged his phone!

Trump's offered no supporting facts for his emphatic claim.
No warrants from the F.B.I. or C.I.A. to blame.
Perhaps he thinks Barack Obama has a super-power
that lets him fly high in the sky to break into Trump Tower.

So, do you wonder, Donald Trump, just where Barack is now?
Is he there behind the curtains? Is he in the walls somehow?
Is he watching from the ceiling? Is he in the chandelier?
Is he in your 15th closet? Do these thoughts fill you with fear?

Is he down at Mar-a-Lago, in the old groundskeeper's shed?
Is he disguised just like Melania, right there in your bed?
The truth may be much worse than that! Does it fill you with dread,
to realize Barack is living... deep inside your head?

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at:
Link to video of this poem:
Written March 11, 2017
Martin Bailes Mar 8

Come on down
right on down now,
a brand new car,
deluxe washer dryer
brand spankin' new
& all ready to go,
spin that wheel,
turn that square,
answer that question
& gamble that dollar,
Donald J. Trump
has come to town,

the Dealmaker
the Best of the Best,
the All American
gettin' it done
wise & wicked
grinnin' fat cat,
who'll somehow
keep an eye out
for all you smaller
folks as he swings
those roundabouts,
& crosses those t's
& cashes his chips,

Donald J. Trump
will make that dollar,
dig that coal &
bury that pipeline,
negotiate that better
ditch that failure,
scrap that law,
watch out for
that business
& surely curb
those watchdogs,

& money will be
made but not by
you or I or Shirl
or Bob but those oh so
connected & Sheldon's
& Coke Brother's &
Investors & Directors
& Oligarchs & Overseas
Accounts & the select
few who always,
always, seem to
do just fine,

& the pitiful irony
if you will of all
this Making Great
Again & victory
for the Little Man
is that the little
man cast his lot
with someone
who never gave
the slightest damn
& Earl & Nancy
once more get
the short stick,
the bad apple,
the cracker
the prize,
the pathetic hat
& the broken
soon faded whistle.

Martin Bailes Mar 7

The Republican Party's moral
center is proving hard to find
these days with some saying
its similar to El Dorado or Noah's
original Ark which means actually
not there at all & nowhere to be
found really just a dark echoing void
of pure unadulterated starless blackness
at the very centre of an infinite depth of total
& absolute & echoing despairing well of utter
pitiless heartless opportunist depravity much like
a starving hyena coming upon a lonely dying lamb.

Or words to that effect.

Next page