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the recent decisions of SCOTUS
show the mind of the previous POTUS
who’s stuck in the past
and cannot but blast
everyone who belittles his SCROTUS
Francie Lynch Oct 2020
Potus fallin'
Flotus stallin'
Scotus appalin'

Kim's cryin'
Vlad's lyin'
Donnie's dyin'

Joe's soarin'
Dems scorin'

God's in heaven,
All's right with the world
Finding level again
Francie Lynch Sep 2020
A tip of the cap to my good friend, Homer.
William Clifton May 2020
Don't ask questions that won't please me
Nothing that's nasty like before
I've no passion to be familiar
And I don't need you anymore
I will deceive you that we're in trouble
I'll never name the pain and scars
Report it's GREAT TIMES, ignore the bad times
And fake it so that I'm the Star
Don't go cryin' while I cash in
You LOVE the color of my hair
You'll always get my crass Tweets and trashin'
Born from narcissistic cares
I can't have clever conversations
I'm found wanting cuz it's hard
I just need someone that I can talk through
I'll fake it just to be the Star
I need to know that you'll report 'bout me
As always BRILLIANT and TRUE
These lies I make are meant for pleasing me
Repeat them or you are FAKE NEWS!
I am your POTUS and that's FOREVER
As Putin wished it from the start
He knows I'm WINNING and much better
And so now this is how we aaaaaaarrrrrrre
Political Lyrics Fake News Trump
Francie Lynch Mar 2020
We know them best by their first names,
Names ingrained on our brains;
Mouthed by millions being slain,
By the viral ego of the politically inane.

Adolph, Idi, Kim and Pol,
Francisco, Mao and Nicol.
Other names have come and gone,
None rise so high, as Despot Don.

Tens of thousands die prematurely,
The man's bereft of human morality.
Preoccupied with re-election,
He risks a healthy population:
The aged, sick and compromised,
Won't cast a vote when they die.
The word is out throughout New York:
He ain't famly, de foykin joyk.
Last line, Bronx accent. It sounds so much nicer.
Francie Lynch Feb 2020
Stupid is as stupid does.
Tupid is as tupid sounds.
Upid is as upid sounds.
Pid is as pid sounds.
Id is...
Francie Lynch Feb 2020
How do I loathe thee? There aren't enough ways.
I loathe your birth, your girth; the lack of mirth
My tired spirit can reach under your curse;
For loss of truth on your tenuous stay.
I loathe you for the depth of my lost days'
Most silent tears, for all of what they're worth.
I loathe thee as I love our damaged Earth.
I loathe you for your blathering self-praise.
I loathe deeply with the disdain I held
For my old habits, and my wayward sins.
I loathe you with the intense, hurtful pains
Of lost loves left on our bleak battlefields.
I loathe with a passion I freely choose,
As free choice allows. I loathe with my heart,
My thoughts, my whole being; and when you lose,
I'll loathe thee lovingly as you depart.
Tip of the cap and apology to Elizabeth Barret Browning.
I think I got the format for the sonnet right. The syllabic emphases may be a bit off, but the spirit of the sonnet is there.
Sonnet 45 because he's the 45th president.
Francie Lynch Jan 2020
… and the Sanhedrin cried out loudest,
Free Barabbas.
The Republic got nailed.
Sins of the Senate.
Francie Lynch Aug 2019
The baboon savant
Will rear and taunt
From high on his hair-swept hill;
He snatches bananas from the unsuspecting,
His reach has no appeal.

He relishes the sound
Of his own voice,
Screeching into the wind;
He sticks his fingers in his ears,
And when he plops down
His ruby-red ****,
His thumb's nestled up his rear.
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