1,192 Readings


It’s gone, when we were strong and when we were smart.

So here’s the good news.

It’s not exactly cool.

We all have a big heart.


Baby’s born. Take care of the baby. Great.

A traitor. And we knew he was a traitor.

But we have to have somebody.

This is our negotiator.


We don’t win anymore.

We never win.

I won ‘em all.

I’m a professional nobody.


But I’m friendly with everybody.

I have by far the biggest crowds.

I was criticized, I was getting killed.

I was the fair-haired boy!


There’s nothing good, there’s nothing good.

No wonder they’re so emboldened.

Remember the horses? His wife has horses.

And she said to me, “You’re strong, you’re the one that I want.”


It’s true. It’s true. It’s incredible.

I’m building buildings.

I’m really good at this stuff.

It’s a carnage.


We have the right equipment.

We have the Great Stuff.

The ultimate cure is either death or the other thing.

The word “predictable” is a very important word.


Now here’s the beauty of all:

The Word is Illegal.

Don’t be fools. Don’t be fools, okay.

This isn’t me.

Posted 11/18/15
A few days ago in Fort Dodge, Donald Trump had an epic meltdown even by Donald Trump meltdown standards. Horror-struck and mesmerized, I took bits of his torrential dementia and made them this poem. If you want to watch the speech, here it is: https://youtu.be/apaToLjdRp4 (Believe it or not, googling "Donald Trump meltdown" isn't specific enough.) Check out the lady behind him with the 90s duck-hair. Don't do that, lady. Meg Ryan died for your sins.
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