The Donald is mad — seeing red
Over claims that he’s gotten in bed
With supremacist wacks.
Seems his message to blacks
Is “forget each damn thing that he’s said.”
Archive for the ‘White House’ Category
The Donald is mad — seeing red
Donald’s message: “I don’t want to pivot.”
Such a statement is certain to rivet
The Republican leaders–
Those desperate pleaders–
Will they somehow survive and out-live it?
The media’s biased, ill-bred,
And in bed with that crook who’s ahead.
If I lose, it’s the press
Who’s at fault for my mess.
How dare they report what I’ve said!
Trump’s speeches are vile and bombastic,
With fantastical falsehoods so drastic,
That he crosses the line,
Which for Trump is just fine.
His defense? “I was being sarcastic.”
The Donald’s behavior is reckless.
It proves without doubt that he’s feckless.
His White House flirtation’s
A threat to all nations,
And I’d wager that Trump is full-deck-less.
Donald Trump in the Oval Office? Imprisonment for threatening a fellow presidential candidate seems more appropriate to me.
Trump’s gun-loving supporters knew exactly what Trump meant, when he said this:
If she gets to pick her judges, nothing you can do folks. Although the Second Amendment people, maybe there is, I don’t know.
Did you hear the vile message Trump sent?
To the gun owners, here’s what he meant:
If Trump’s beaten by Hill,
Then their gun rights are nil–
Something only her death can prevent.
Will Delusional Donald debate?
Well of course, so folks see that he’s “great.”
Though he plays hard to get
With “conditions,” I’ll bet
He can’t wait; he’s so sure of his fate.
There’s no end to the lies and abuses
That “The Donald” so often produces.
Here’s his latest deflection:
He fears the election
Is “rigged.” Trump — “Tycoon of Excuses!”
I suspect that The Donald is scared
That his knowledge-lack’s sure to be bared
In a Clinton debate.
Hence his tale out the gate:
“Clinton rigged the debate dates,” he blared.
Are you confused by the Trump/Putin relationship? The Donald has helpfully written us this limerick:
Meet Putin? I did not … or did.
No one hacked, just to help with my bid.
But what a great plan!
Hey Putin, my man,
Hack those emails that Hillary hid.
Dear Bernie, I hope you’ll succeed
In persuading supporters to heed
All your “real world” advice.
If you fail, our steep price
Is a probable Trumped-up stampede.
Melania’s speech was revealing;
In her push to make Donald appealing,
She stole lines from Michelle
About values. Oh well,
This confirms that both Trumps value stealing.
Dear Chris, though you put up a fight,
Pence swiped that Veep slot. What a slight!
I am betting you’re mad.
If you weren’t a cad
I’d feel pity, instead of delight.
Bernie’s Clinton endorsement has come.
Sanders’ fans? Some are mad, some just glum.
Will they heed his late cue,
Or continue to boo?
I sure hope they don’t do something dumb.
It’s illegal and terribly brash
To ask foreign officials for cash
For your U.S. prez run.
That’s what Donald has done.
Will he pay any price? Balderdash!
Dear Donald, you once would extol
Your rankings in poll after poll.
You’d brag and you’d gloat
And you’d proudly emote
About numbers you loved, heart and soul.
But now that you’re deep in the hole,
With low poll numbers taking their toll,
You scream and you swear
That they’re fake and unfair–
Once a poll-touter, now a poll troll.
I’m flooded with emails and calls
From fellows who think they’ve the balls
To run as my veep.
But my standards are steep;
Are they skilled with cement for my walls?
I was amused to learn that Trump has been duping friends with fake diamond cuff link gifts for years.
Fake cuff links — my favorite gift–
Very key to maintaining my thrift.
“They’re fine diamonds,” I say
When I give them away.
No one’s miffed; friends don’t know they’ve been stiffed.
My Hillary speech went off great!
And I’m betting that liar’s irate.
I’ll shellack her and whack her,
Attack her and thwack her.
Getting rich in the Oval’s my fate.
Dear Bernie, feel free to contest
The convention with zeal and with zest.
But in case that you think
We’re naive and will shrink
In your wake, you’ll speak midnight, at best.