Poets' March On the White House
Gather round, all ye poets
and hear my plea
For by myself, I'm just a 'wannabe'
I need you here, together with me
Our sensitive hearts cannot bear much more
We're weary of endless culture wars
Our Muses are facing poetic starvation
Midst all this politicized aggravation
What I propose might seem a wee bit weird
But you are here, you've all volunteered
Every man among us, let him show no fear --
To shave off his head hair, and half of his beard
Ladies do the same, except for the beard
That means all that lovely hair, completely sheared
Then we march on the White House, like mystical monks
~ Peace and Joy to the orange hair in Donald J's trunks
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