Politics Poems
Donald Trump Poems
by Michael R. Burch
There are poems for Donald Trump and poems inspired by Donald Trump.
Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch
There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
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Load shedding in south Africa
by Robert Rittel
When ignorance and mediocrity is on display,
fancy title and salaries become proof thereby.
The incompetence to deliver is the destruction,
implementation without visions is a foolish attraction.
What makes it very clear, when too many idiots pulling the plug,
the ship will sink, regardless the excuses by this pathetic flog.
Leadership has to proof itself by sincere integrity,
or democratic politics become anarchistic misery.
The chances are that everybody stops paying the electric bill,
and those self elected wasters running for the hill.
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102. Parallels
by Kea Campbell
Light from two bulbs drapes over my bathroom mirror;
One filament severed and the other quite near.
Steam fogs my reflection from the uselessness of the shower.
A familiar feeling of my lungs: wrangled and floundered.
Sago by my sill, most placate, my mind.
A kind sight to your eye; you'd die for a bite.
White-potted for pleasantries, and loved to a tee.
Mutualistic co-habitants in a cycle of exchanging O2 for C.
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Hum Dekhte
by Thanshu Guliani
Hum bhi agar panchi hote to aakash dekhte
Saari duniya so rahi hoti magar hum prakash dekhte
Mausam jo bhi hota, par apni chah me aksar
Hum apne pankh khol dete aur log humari udaan dekhte
Hum makan dekhte
Hum, makan dekhte
jinme kitni aankhe taras rahi hai udne ko
jahan in cheekhon ka naam nahi hai rukne ko
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The Chosen One
by Josias Homely
A candidate came to the west country.
That land of the bold independent and free,
And he stop'd at a borough town.
He'd a twist in his nose, and a squint in each eye,
On his back stood a hump, and his neck stood awry,
And his gait was the gait of a clown.
As he pass'd through the streets with a lop and a stride
The dogs they all bark'd, and the children all cried,
And the women beginning to snivel.
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Trump's Wild Tango
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
One step back, two steps forward,
Swing around and do the dance,
Keep it fast, a little awkward
A whole world audience to entrance.
Now you've got them captivated
Up the tempo, raise the heat,
Some may need to be sedated
As they wither from your beat.
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Nothing More Than a Change of Mind
by D James
You who with confidence proclaim your truths
Steadfast in opinion ever since your youth
Always know your move in the voting booth
Which way you’re going to steer
You who philosophise divine
Find ways to argue your unwavering line
Hear these words, though they aren’t mine,
‘Nothing more than a change of mind, my dear’.
You find your view and then find the facts
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Suction World Cup
by Jimmy Graham
Don't let the merry men of the Highway overthrow everything you thought you deserved! You came to your classrooms early and remained a tad late, but not too late. We had our daily chores that seemed to amuse, stimulate, and fascinate the previous generation of distracted-worker-bees.The philosophy of the non-seeker became a way to manage your misery. It hit me like a shard of brick-I think perhaps that Marxism( being so much like a life draining, color absorbing, vampiric sucking-suck machine) may have achieved world domination and we were too sucked-off to realize. It’s all so self destructive . The Sucker has made a Sucker of himself in the most sucky way.
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102. Parallels
by Kea Campbell
Light from two bulbs drapes over my bathroom mirror;
One filament severed and the other quite near.
Steam fogs my reflection from the uselessness of the shower.
A familiar feeling of my lungs: wrangled and floundered.
Sago by my sill, most placate, my mind.
A kind sight to your eye; you'd die for a bite.
White-potted for pleasantries, and loved to a tee.
Mutualistic co-habitants in a cycle of exchanging O2 for C.
......
99. In My Perfect World
by Kea Campbell
In a perfect world, you and I could saunter— free.
Breathing fresh, salt-licked air.
Where the ocean reaches for our feet, and the sun melts into the sea, and the sky drapes over its long lost twin.
Where the forest and the sky and the land love humanity dearly, like a neighborhood that could thrive for eternity.
In a perfect world, there would be no bicker of capitalists and environmentalists— merely political empathy.
I dream of boring news channels.
When red, white, and blue don't seem so embarrassing, nor disgraceful to half of the country, and "liberty and justice for all" hugs "all" comfortably.
When the government is wed to candor bound by the promise of life and liberty, and diplomacy relieves, and monopolies fancy consumers' well-being.
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