Are you ever so full of it
That you need to flush
Halfway through a dump?
That's where we are with Trump.
Two more years of BS.
I take umbrage
To a lying piece of crap.
I've experienced crap, lots of it!
Usually brown, with no comb-over.
So POTUS **** is an unfair analogy.
Now, a moniker like
Faeces Face fits,
And stinks to the high heavens.
I've used them on my windows
To see the clear outside,
If I read the Op-eds,
I shudder, shuttered and hide.
I've spread them 'neath my plates and cups,
My shelves all neat and tidy;
But the headlines made it clear to me
My glass is more half empty.
They had a place in the litter box
For **** to scratch and squat;
I laid them round my garden plants,
They made fine insect traps.
Rolled and twirled they'd start a fire,
I could fold them into hats.
They cleaned the grease from BBQs,
And they're safe to pick up glass.
Crumple them for packaging,
They work as school book covers;
Add water and some flour,
To shape papier mache lovers.
Fold seeds in them to germinate,
Then use them for compost;
There's many ways to employ
Your Times and local Post.
But I won't subscribe to Dailies
For the felling of our trees;
And yet I miss my papers,
And the ways they worked for me.
But when enthroned,
You'll hear me grouse,
There's no **** paper in this ****-house.
My cell works well to scroll and swipe,
But it's only good for a virtual wipe.
A limerick should always be witty
And ***** and filthy and gritty.
A good one has wit,
And some *** or some ****;
And a clean one is sure to be ******.
I get the flu;
All my systems
Are shutting down;
Makes me doubt
The lease I have
But I'm not
In a hurry,
I'll sit here
And not worry.
I'll give a wipe
For another bar.
But my gut's feeling's
I won't get far.
— The End —