The White House is down on its luck,
A Coronavirus hot spot,
The Trump Virus cluster fuck,
The Pentagon is on lockdown,
We couldn’t fly a paper airplane around,
Moscow, Ukraine, or Kosovo,
Typhoid Donald walks the hallowed halls like an evil clown,
Shedding virus spores as he spits and spins around,
He’s a speculative
Movie pitch: “If Chuckie Became a Septuagenarian,
Got addicted to Adderall,
Had a cult following of Typhoid Mary-o-nets,
And owned a Twitter account!"
A cameraman had to stand,
Directly in front of the man, filming,
A 'roid rage in-progress,
Spitting spores in the process,
Endangering that person’s family,
Tweeting another lie for his cultists,
He’s on a cocktail of drugs that don’t exist,
For any American who can’t easily spend,
$100,000 dollars for the concoction,
That has probably exacerbated his present delusions and
darkness,
Wheezing past portraits and galleys,
Of presidents, he will never measure up to,
He insists on holding rallies,
Because Baby Huey is upset, sadly
His last debate was seen as
Bat-shit crazy,
He’s bluffing because the next virtual debate,
Puts the moderator in complete control, to navigate
A mute button that will leave him for the PLANET,
Looking like a frothing, lunatic ingrate,
Orchestrating a coup,
Would take planning he has no talent to do,
His fascist enablers, and hanger-on leeches,
Are capable of such treachery,
He is the apogee of,
Reagan’s “empty wagon” analogy,
Made famous by Grover Norquist,
Who only wanted a chief executive with functional digits,
To sign any legislation,
But NEVER, ever think!
He blamed the military, police, the Gold Star families,
For his Coronavirus diagnosis malady,
Not his super spreader, 2-minute hate rallies,
He’s literally, real-time looking for an excuse,
When he eventually loses.
The FIRST question any moderator should ask is this:
If you REFUSE to accept the peaceful transfer of power, are
you staging a coup? If so, what does America LOOK like after this?
Typhoid Donald walks the hallowed halls like an evil clown,
Shedding virus spores as he spits and spins around,
Shedding virus spores like dandruff, or lint,
Knowing his re-election chances are falling to shit,
Taking the entire Republican Party with him,
The “Art of the Deal” plagiarist,
Won’t find anyone who wants to do business with him,
The Manhattan DA, SDNY, and State of New York DA Letitia
James,
Will fight to ship him,
To Rikers, or Sing-Sing,
He’ll spend the remainder of his life,
Broke and penniless,
Decaying and rotten,
And a fate for him far worse than death: forgotten.
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