THE FALL OF TRUMP

A lie
has short legs.
It cannot outrun time.

You spoke of peace.
But peace does not arrive
on sanctions.
Nor on hunger.

Is this democracy—
to starve a nation
and call it order?

Venezuela burns
not from failure of leaders,
but from invisible chains
wrapped by foreign hands.

You have read this story before.
Libya.
Iraq.
Same script.
Different stage.
Same ashes.

The wise learn from history.
Fools
repeat it with pride.

You call it civilization.
But theft dressed in law
is still theft.

Power, Machiavelli warned,
rots when it feeds on weakness.
Empires fall
not by enemies—
but by excess.

These are not victories.
They are the final kicks
of a dying horse.

Nothing stolen
remains owned.
Nothing imposed
remains stable.

What you have done
to the small
returns to the great.

The wind has turned.
The record is kept.

And history,
cold and patient,
has already begun
to write
your fall.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Bauer Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 1:14 PM
oh, i hope your message gets across and your title becomes reality, chanda...
Katonga  Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 6:49 PM
Thank you, Ilene. Titles are not wishes, they are mirrors. History decides what becomes real.
Stachurski Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 9:30 AM
well done
Katonga  Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 10:20 AM
Thank you.
Hughes Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 8:45 AM
Think of the innocent, the victims, the lives lost, because of the tyrannical dictatorship. Those who have lived under the cruelty of such regimes, most cry out triumphantly!
Katonga  Avatar
January 4, 2026 at 10:24 AM
I do think of the innocent. That is why the poem exists. Victims suffer under dictators, yes— but they also suffer under sanctions, wars, and regime change sold as “freedom.” Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan show us this truth. Millions died after liberation arrived. This poem is not praise for tyranny. It is a warning about power that lies while creating chaos. True justice mourns all victims— those crushed by dictators and those destroyed by empires. Only then do we truly see.
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace