“Like. Donald.”

Like Donald,

I don’t care.

I know better shit ’bout me

than ever you will

and I suspect

President Trump’s that way too!


Sometimes I start stories

about who some suppose

is a fictional J Kirk,

and now mom-n-dad’s

safely – and so-far quietly –


I share what my new sisters

say shocks them to the core(s).

My brothers’ wives are not pleased,

so I suspect my brothers too.

Well, howdy do!  How ’bout you?

To me theyre sugar and pepper

to salt life’s long stew.


And I make sure to nod knowingly

the lies soon I will spin about me

are ‘bellishments no more

though sometimes less as I spread

sunward my anti-photonic praise

of diems done carped and hewers done wood

(or wooed or even trued).


So, Donnie Boy, muster that hair

and cut your clown parade each day

to but a two-ring circus every other

something to say and watch the press

wormlike stare into itself and your two

spokes-targets will get some deserved

time off the stupid stand where their

“bettors” line up to place their lies.




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