Quatrains or couplets are my chosen word lines,
Bring insight and perspective with a number of rhymes.
Except today I tread on a most sacred of shrines,
When I commented on Frank, writer at the Times.
A candidate can swing legions with one racist quote,
Misogynistic allusions won’t capsize his boat.
But lean on Clinton’s clumsy path to the vote,
And it ends with “sorry pal, that’s all we wrote".
As the press narrows the field of who'll run the Nation,
And Clintons’ missteps ignite Dems consternation.
We see the unthinkable...Donald's inauguration,
Except his script mandates… It’ll be MY Coronation!
As Trump’s antics make redneck States redder,
Sarah says the Establishment couldn’t be deader.
And I don’t expect Hillary’s crew to fare any better
As Willy stumps around with his bright scarlet letter.
Maybe Trump started to run in order to avoid jail,
Someone said "Hey Don, as President you don't even need bail!"
So go for that Office, campaign like you can't fail,
When the going gets tough bring up Clinton's email!
Could the White House even inhabit a Trump?
He thinks it’s a bit small, and a bit of a dump.
Ted go back to Canada, don't be a chump,
Wave bye-bye and give Donald’s polls a big bump.
He talks like he’s gold, but it’s just tarnished brass,
Don’s mouth won’t stop running, totally lacking in class.
Not really an athlete, his sycophants love to kick ass,
But when the race gets rough we’ll find his jaw is glass.
Hillary's mirror cracked, she'd rather you're under her spell,
It reflects on Don's scream that we're all going to hell.
He's busy building a potion much like snake oil men sell,
I don't know how it will end, but it won't end well.
So whether you're hope searching for a glimmer,
Or strongly rooting for Don because he's a "winner".
Avoid quoting the facts, reality's for the sinner,
And he'll look good on the podium, his wife is thinner.
What we need is a leader to do what is right,
For the times, and the people, hold up a light.
Conquer the challenges with brains, passion, and might,
Be done with stirring the pot to drum up a fight.
Copyright © Mike Kostashuk