Oh Jefferson Beauregard Sessions,
being bullied by President Trump
You were loyal and true
as a lapdog, but you
have been thrown 'neath the bus like a chump.

So when Donald Trump asked you to fire
Mr. Mueller, you must have thought, "How"?
From that task you're excused,
being rightly recused
from the Russian mess playing out now.

So Trump's trying to shame and demean you,
saying that you're beleaguered and weak.
What a cowardly disgrace.
He won't say to your face
that "You're fired": Those words he won't speak?

Robert Mueller's team is closing in now,
with Trump's nuts in a vice - he can tell.
Trump won't show you the door
'cause we all know for sure,
it would make him look guilty as hell!

Understand, I don't like you Jeff Sessions,
with your racist past troubling and sad,
but I hope that you'll stay,
for I so love the way
that it's driving Trump stark raving mad!

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/McBP_smglp0
Written: July 26, 2017
Leo 3h

Can't you see that they want it this way? They propagate it in their media and glorify it with their politics. You are part of a lost culture, indebted to your distant cousins -- yourself. They want it this way. They want you sedated. They want you kicking on an old mouldy couch. They want you tuned in, turned on and foremost dropped out. They want you to slam spikes in your corrotid. They want you shuffling from institution to institution complaining about the food as you pace a single hallway. They want to see the greatest minds of your generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked. Look for it in their media. They know full well that to a generation of nothing, being a statistic counts for something. Look for it in their politics. They know full well how to demonize and revolutionize. Why can't you see that they want it this way?

A nation great and strong we stood
The symbol of a dream
A city on a shining hill
A torch, a glowing beam

A statue tall and proud we built
Of copper and of gold
Its feet of clay away were cut
It crumbled into mold

Corrupted now our leaders are
And sunken into greed
An illness growing in our land
A toxic spreading weed

Now all the people stand in awe
From sea to shining sea
Fearfully they all behold
The tears of Liberty

Wallowing in sunlight
Moonlighting as a traitor
Something ain't right
About you dictator
About your egos plight
You pumpkin headed
Ankle biter
You wont win
No one is winning
You double necked
Turkey chin
Moonlighting as a traitor
Wallowing in plain daylight

Rump hump dump grump lump

Towers burn and
the graves give up
their dead.  
Biblical science.
Too hot to protest about
climate change.
Good Friday ghosts
clank chains in Westminster.
Lady Liberty's tits
fondled by tiny orange hands.
Nail bombs, acid and
vehicular homicide.
Armed police guarding Starbucks.
The vanishing hope of
finding a cure, or
even getting a doctor’s appointment.
Bees disappearing and
rivers running dry.
Refugees vilified, oligarchs welcome.
Fox playing
the most gorgeous HD footage
of The End Of Days.
Rage and no rage.
Fake news and alternative facts.
The criminalisation
of irony.
Inevitable Quisling betrayal.
Nihilism as a punchline.

Time to birth yourself
from the
Womb of the Echo Chamber,
Please stop trying to pretend
that anything about this
is normal.

our president is
waging Thumb Wars

pressing the button
another pinball appears

he pulls back the spring
and hits send

watching the vociferous orb
encapsulated with incorrigibility
ricochet across the continents

the hemispheres
the stratospheres

across every neighborhood
and nation

bing bing boing

the barricades throb
and eyes light up
as the points
begin to rack up


he    got-ta    new-high    score


such big thumbs
for such tiny hands

"Those women ought to put on some clothes. They all act like a bunch of sluts nowadays!"

"But don't you think we ought to focus on more serious issues like Global Warming"

"Ah, you damn Liberals want to over-regulate the Economy. You're all a bunch of Control Freaks!"

Bickering Children

Party Lines

Obsessing over "better times"

That no longer apply

To our current situation

Old men whose futures are short at best

Telling me what to do with my uterus


Some thoughts I am having before my meeting with Senator Joni Ernst. I'll finish it later, but not too shabby for writing it in 2 minutes.
Brent Kincaid Jul 16

I will ride this horse
Until I'm shot down
And even then I will
Crawl along the ground
Until I lift my eyes
And I can see that right
Has won the battle
Against greed and might.

I will pull myself up
Through blood and pain
Until not one square mile
Of hatred will remain.
I will call out those who
Label villainy other names
And strive to make them see
That evil is just the same.

Up to that precious day
I will never rest quietly
Until peace in our world
Shall lie and rest beside me,
Until this will come to pass
I, the discontented messenger,
Will point the way to integrity,
And be its constant harbinger.

listening to the news
one really gets the blues

in all their great meetings
    after cordial greetings
world leaders disagree
    for one reason or other

seems they don’t really bother
‘bout what should be their goals

    not to save their own souls
    but the folks in our world

the children all curled
    with pain in their belly
civilians burned dead
    with gasoline jelly

the women attacked for
    (a lack of) their clothing
as if there were nothing
more important than keeping
some men from their peeping

but what really matters
are the people in tatters
who flee from bombed homes
in despair and have come
    to realize
that their possible demise
does not affect those
who’d rather smell a rose
than seriously bother
about the fate of an other

tragedy unfolds every day
yet it holds little sway
in the news of the powers
that makes sure that ours
is different from theirs

until that dream sours
we need to write some
more encouraging verse

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