Can you believe it, indicted again,
By a bunch of pure zealots, callous grey men,
Political hacks given the task,
To take down the Don and in the limelight then bask.
Find any cause, invent a good ruse,
Just make it stick, all tricks good to use.

But boxes of stuff, how low can they get,
Papers with socks stacked in the shower, some wet,
All safely collected in my place at the beach,
Easy to find, easy to reach.
Just mere mementos of my time as the Boss,
Not something I’d part with or wantonly toss.

Now they accuse me under some act,
With great media fanfare like milk to a cat,
Gloating, backslapping each other in turn,
Pouring on fuel, hoping I burn.
Little sick people don't they recall
They tried this before and I embarrassed them all.

To be top of news is clearly my ace,
Providing the fame and my favorite space,
For me to then weave my own brand of spin
And just like last time, that got me straight in.
But if this turn they're sure I've been finally licked,
They won't even feel how hard they've been kicked.

Charles Darwin, whether thought direct or indirect means,
that humans, apes, and monkeys descend from common genes,
a concept that's both eerie and satirical in its themes,
as we return to our primal roots, donning monkey suits,
will our intellect dilute?

The skyscrapers that once made the city grand,
will be replaced by vines that spread across the land.
Our technology, planes, and cars,
replaced by monkey-like anatomy in bizarre memoirs.

All scientific progressions will be thrown to the wind,
as we forage for bananas and swing from tree to tree with a grin.
our sophisticated language will be reduced to gibberish,
and all our efforts to progress will be seen trivial and will perish.

But wait, am I speaking something too soon,
for in this world, we may find new opportunities to groom,
perhaps we'll learn to thrive in this new clime,
as a new breed with evolutionary bungle, we'll shine.

And so, my dear readers, this story concludes,
of humans becoming monkeys, as absurd as it may sound,
but let's not forget the wonders of evolution,
the way we are behaving today will lead us to the jungle.

Little upstart, young showboat
Lots of bluster full of gloat,
Been there minutes, thinks he knows,
Blind ambition and it shows.

They say he's bright and tough to boot,
Compared to me, now that's a hoot,
What's Yale and Harvard, simply names,
The constant ones he repeatedly proclaims.

As to the Navy, are we to be impressed,
He only served so he'd be thought best dressed;
The lawyer bit, now that brings on a shiver,
The very thought entwines my liver.

Now as to his wife,
I will admit she's rather nice,
But then let's pause to look at mine,
And tell me if she doesn't her outshine.

So there's no doubt whichever way you cut it,
I Trump this kid with character and wit,
He may be smart, but I'm the stable Genius,
Him all hot air, with me my smarts are intravenous.

As I ponder how I should react,
Knowing I’m the very best at tact,
I thought I'd stick to what I do so well,
While he drones on, I'll just my winning vision sell.

America needs me, not some kid wet behind the ears,
Whose monotone delivery brings us all to sleepy tears,
With me you get that vibrant lively spark
The choice quite clear, a Guppy or a Shark?

About time,
I've paid my dues I've crossed the line,
This moment I thought would never come,
Is in my grasp, the deed now done.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my Mum,
But all that passed would surely stun
Even a saint or the Lord above,
So tiring being an aimless dove.

Now I'm ready to take the world by storm,
Show them my worth, no longer act forlorn,
The wife I always wanted by my side,
I can finally get into my Kingly stride.

The Little ****** that remains,
Harry's willful character that pains,
I've summoned experts to hear what they might say
To finally obtain a sample of his mysterious DNA.

I'm not claiming he's not mine,
But as Americans would shout, ‘I wouldn't bet a dime’,
Thank goodness I've got my other boy,
A stand-up chap that brings me nothing but pure joy.

As to Camilla, my soulmate from the start,
From whom they never could tear me far apart,
She now stands by me as my Queen,
You saw me beam with joy like a lovestruck teen.

Don't get me wrong,
I'm painfully aware my reign may not be long,
But while I'm here, I plan to make my mark,
Understanding this job is no cakewalk in the park.

I've got the Aussies wanting to jump ship.
The Canadians on their own perennial trip,
The Scots plotting for a Clansman King,
And Parliament seeking me do next to nothing.

Yet I've got a plan,
Something that will surely stun,
Become a multimedia star,
And thus take them all across the bar.

I can jig, dance and sing,
Fly helicopters, do pretty much of anything,
Plant trees, help save our World
How can all of this be thought absurd.

Politicians just blow smoke,
Send their countries near flat broke,
I instead bring Billions in
Collecting smiles from wheresoever I have been.

That said let me enjoy my moment in the sun,
Reflecting on all that's been and done,
My resolve is firm, my duty clear,
My life's work is aimed at all, both far and near.

So rest easy, enjoy the ride,
Sailing smoothly on a flowing tide,
Over a thousand years in the making
My oath is one of giving and not taking.

Lorded
The mad writer licked the crystal

To get a sale

This he got oh yes

Bought an atomic

And sent it to Putin

By 1st class post

step right in
where commodity and fiction
are deliberately blurred,

electrostatic dust collector,
after-shower body air-driers,
a spatially disconnected
from the world roll-on wife
complete with a dining table
that sinks into the floor;
don't tell her she's an android;
just don't.

she is captured
and ever ready,
she was a stenographer
but quite unsteady,
her mouth a spark of vowels
when her far off places
are aroused.

repeat this soothing motto — space, place, memory.

outside is scenographic sensation:
lightology. unbreathed air. porcelain skin.

she's the soft electric assurance
of a better life — the life which rests on device alone — a strong, sweet poison which infects the blood.

she is "the light of any home"...

~
if you're feeling sinister tonight, come inside the darkroom. picture yourself pouring over mental images of a demure young botanist, loitering around the trapdoor of nostalgia, kissing someone new for the first time.

now imagine she is conscious and clustered in titillating blur, her smile beachy and airborne, with only the slightest suggestion that something troublesome is lurking underneath.

can you see her double exposure? totally tranquil, she poses with an arsenal of poisonous plants, as if she’s already slipped their venom into your tea.
~

So what I kept some stuff
A few small keepsakes, merely fluff
They make such noise, so much dumb fuss
Their indignation careening like a bus.

Now they think I'll spill the beans
Use my powers by any means
I can clearly hear their screams
Trying to figure out my schemes.

All hot air like a balloon
Their pouting makes me want to swoon
The media bellows noon to noon
More newsworthy than the landing on the moon.

But oh what fun when dear old Joe
Was caught with files of which he didn't know
Or so he claimed to hear the crow
Of countless minders rushing to and fro.

And now comes Pence my dear old friend
Whose pious indignation never seems to bend
So let me just this little message send
He who laughs first laughs loudest in the end.