The country's on fire
Buildings ablaze
A situation most dire
Filmed through the haze.

Protesters all shouting
Passions inflamed
Of their anger no doubting
For the victim now named.

They march with hands raised
Indignant and loud
Determined, unphased,
To pressure unbowed.

But the message is tainted
The moment hijacked
The vision now painted
Of stores all ransacked.

Looters in droves
Their arms filled with goods
From iPhones to clothes
Their faces in hoods

Frenzied they run
Opportunity knocks
Plate glass they shun
With hammers and rocks.

Men of no soul
These rats of the night
Not caring they stole
What's pure and what's right.

Sadness surrounds us
Few places to turn
So much to discuss
While our cities now burn.

Imagine there’s a painting
adorning the wall of some president’s master bedroom. It hangs
beneath a mirrored ceiling where his wife
(lucky her) gets to watch his pumping ****
wobble like a pale hairy jelly.

Let’s say it sits above a dozen nicotine silver wigs
on a perfect chesterfield dresser,
and maybe it gazes down, in lurid grey and gold:

a grinning Adolf ******
riding a merry go round of charging marble stallions,
one leather glove tightly gripping the reigns
the other waving at scores
of muscular blonde women
and heroic dead eyed men
with lantern jaws.

Let’s just say this now and get it out in the open
before it’s too late.

Can't stand the man
Despise his sight
I hate him so
With all my might.

In all my years
Can't recall a time
I had to deal
With such vile slime.

A puffed up despot
A vain buffoon
His very sight
Spells doom and gloom.

My only solace
My one salvation
Ice cream for dinner
Enough to face the nation.

The sugar rush
That silken taste
Tempers my moods
If not my waist.

What do I care
Why should I cease
When I’ve revealed
Trump is morbidly obese.

I told the world
Made it quite clear
His health in mind
And not a smear.

The truth quite harsh
Sometimes it hurts
He needs cut down
McDonalds and desserts.

But not long now
Elections close
Watching with glee
Trump thrashing in death throws.

Joe's on the cusp
If only he knew
But with creeping dementia
He hasn't a clue.

So my plan's now enacted
All scheming and guile
To get rid of both
And rule with a smile.

I've earned it for sure
Endured with such class
Folks never guessed
I was such pure bad-***.

What did I do, what Karma is this
Where is the power, the glory, the bliss,
I didn't sign up for this constant pain,
I'm losing my mojo, going insane.

I gave up a bunch, my whole pampered life,
The glittering lights, a model for wife,
A media in love, fans all around,
Success beyond words to truly astound.

The Don was the man, the king of the heap,
The world's superstars in my presence would steep,
Invites and connections too many to count,
Politicians included my patronage tantamount.

My wealth and prestige more radiant than gold,
Everyone buying whatever I sold,
From Casinos to Pageants, Hotels by the score,
Anything Trump they just wanted more.

And now what is this my world full of grind,
My presence and words despised and maligned,
Melania so mad I tiptoe at night,
To then sleep alone, a truly sad sight.

But what my recourse, I've little to say
What I would do, what would I pay
To rewind the clock, swallow my pride,
Stick to my golf and from politics hide.

Too late for all that, I'm in to my neck
Just hoping and praying to avert a train wreck,
History's blunt it favors the winners,
No pity or quarter for ambitious beginners.

So here's the game plan, my only real shot
To well clear my name and wipe out this blot,
Another four years that's what I so need
For me to yet prove that I truly can lead.

And lead I sure will despite that grim bunch,
I'll use my fine guile peppered with hunch
To ram home the point beyond any doubt,
That I am the one with God-given clout.

The parks are now empty of all but the trees.
The rot in the woodwork has made itself clear:
the virus reveals a more wicked disease.

If we watch each other with growing unease,
more sinister shadows may draw themselves near.
The parks are now empty of all but the trees.

The nurses and doctors make no guarantees;
their furrowed brows are not at all insincere.
But the virus reveals a more wicked disease.

While some may not fret at a cough or a sneeze,          
our day-to-day life shows a mask more austere:
the parks are now empty of all but the trees.

The wealthy can shelter on yachts overseas,
far-flung from the whims of our mad racketeer,
for he, too, was borne of this wicked disease.

But Justice may not brook the fraud she now sees,
her blindfold being repurposed as protective gear.
The parks are now empty of all but the trees,
and the virus reveals a more wicked disease.

Kristallnacht in now every day in America.

**** Trump is now America's full blown ******.

Goebbles was ******'s minister of propaganda. Goebbles said if you tell the people a lie big enough and often enough, they will begin to believe it.

The Washington Post has authenticated over 15,000 **** Trump lies in the past 3 1/2 years.

**** Trump's evil, egregious acts of irresponsibility, his gross incompetence, his de facto criminal decisions not to act at all to protect his 350,000,000 fellow citizens from the death-dealing coronavirus is akin to ******'s hatred of Jews and other groups he also detested and killed.

At the end of WW II, there were estimated to be 15,000 death camps across Europe.

Now **** Trump has his own death camps in America: nursing homes, huge meat-packing plants, prisons and jails, VA hospitals, the homeless, the poor, and especially the Blacks.

Among **** Trump's first statements about the pandemic reaching America included that all this was a "Democratic hoax," that there were only 15 cases in America, and by the end of that week, there would be zero, and so on.

And like the vast majority of the German people under ******, way too many Americans are afraid, I think, to speak out against **** Trump who wants to be, and is becoming, America's dictartor.

Those Americans who still remain rabid supporters of **** Trump are at best simply deluded, and what is even worse, those who support **** Trump, but choose to remain silent, wear cowards' clothes.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks.