'dead Men Walking'

There are those who would call this pejorative phrase,
But the truth is it's all of our fate,
For each child born of woman, Christ too, have their days,
But Don lusts for a different date.

Prison orange (thinks he's God?), most folks know that he's odd,
Casual lies are what give him away,
Stuff that's nonsense! Roughshod! Doesn't care he's a fraud,
Truth for Donald depends on the day!

May his verdict come soon, the chased howl at the moon,
Pray that Donald will get 'just deserts,'
"God please grant there's a Hell (though he's circus buffoon),
With a section reserved for perverts."

If there's Justice at all, Donald's destined to fall,
Party's leaders fall too in the breach
Of the laws that they skirt, unattached like Chagall.
Don't trust Science (they're 'Right')! Can not teach!


Long Tooth
May 4, 2018
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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