Yes, child, if you sexually abuse women, mock the disabled, threaten to persecute a religion…

If I were, hypothetically, president of the United States and not racist or homophobic, and hate crimes and intimidation were being carried out in my name

Lies raged unabated

Facts drowned with the tide

As they try to keep him in power

If only these football players would have voiced their concerns respectfully like their president does…

I try to write a poem expressing my views on current politics

but I only end up plagiarizing Robert De Niro

But when we point out

that Trump is a racist, y’all

get all snowflakey

Standard procedure, par for your course 

You don’t seek permission, you have no remorse 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

of the president who couldn’t think very clear,

on the fourth of July, twenty-nineteen:

when rain malfunctioned his teleprompter machine

A desire to tell the truth still eluded him

despite all the sheep who had suffered under his negligent care

The swamp is swampier, the debt is, um, debtier,

and Mexico hasn’t paid a fucking dime towards a non-existent wall

You sit neglected,
like the last kid to be picked at recess

Sometimes Democracy gets clogged with 

greed and corruption, lies and obstruction

Mr. President, a question I’d like to pursue,

What the fuck is wrong with you?!