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