Waiting,
Because that’s all that I can do,
Thinking,
Of moments that I’ve had with you,
Moments,
Are pretty much all that I knew,
Maybe,
All I have left,
My father,
With my love and my respect,
Still I wish,
You’d somehow learned how to connect,
It’s your absence,
On which I now mostly reflect,
As I sit here,
So sadly and bereft,
Wishing,
For something that we never knew,
And hoping,
Because that’s all that I can do.
Dear Mr. Trump:
You’re a pain, the evil source of all my sorrow,
You fill me with disdain,
I hate you more than yesterday,
But not as much as I will tomorrow!
Mary gave birth to Jesus,
Jesus is the Lamb of God,
So Mary had a little lamb,
Which is very very odd,
He followed her to school,
Everyday with much conviction,
Until one Eastertime,
When they spoke of crucifixion,
The Lamb of God was not impressed,
Crucifixion was not cool,
He began to regret,
That he’d followed her to school!
She wears my t-shirt at my place,
Cuz it kind of smells like me,
It’s relaxed, and fun, and casual,
Which is how we like to be,
And when she wears my t-shirt,
There’s an olfactory transfer,
So when she’s gone I wear the t-shirt,
Cuz it kind of smells like her.
(with kudos to John Lennon)
So this is Monday,
The week has begun,
Trump spirals downward,
The Bluejays have won,
Yes this is Monday,
A new week unfolds,
Hang onto the rafters,
Let’s see what it holds….
There once was a man name of Trump,
Skin painted orange with a pump,
He fed off people’s fears,
And there ‘twixt his ears,
Was really no more than a lump.
There once was a man with the tiniest hands,
He quite hated people that came from foreign lands,
He said he’d build a wall, and he’d issue commands,
All the dumb things he said were deflected,
He had so much hate he couldn’t control it,
If you showed him a tweet, well he’d try to troll it,
He sure wasn’t bright, in fact quite a slow wit,
And his mouth and his brain weren’t connected!
Trump is a man who is clearly insane,
It seems he has breasts on his small tiny brain,
He dreams of taking each small tiny hand,
And meeting a woman with great tracts of land,
And titty titty titty titty titty.
Dear Donald:
There is a graceful way out.
You simply address the Anerican public, and tell them that after running the campaign thus far, you realize this is not the job for you.
You love your country, and hoped to serve it, but this is not your strength.
You resign now, to allow someone else time to step in. People will accept that, and appreciate it, because it’s the responsible and adult thing to do. People will thank you.
You can then go back to your forté and make a reality show about running for President with all the footage you have. It is most likely already underway.
Trust me on this one, big small-hand guy. Step back now, you will be a hero, be loved, and your merchandise will be worth a fortune.
You’ve made a difference, and given us lots to think about in regard to the voting system.
Now step back. Most of the free world will thank you.
Ken Donner
Step Back Campaign
There they were,
All pious as pious could get,
Not willing to admit to any regret,
Or to let anyone pin on them any real wrongdoing,
At least not without saying that the coming and throughing of such made them what they are today,
That they could weigh the value of such things.
But nay!
They could not know the weight that I bore! Regret the size of which they’d not known before! Regret that would never, ever, ever, let me settle the score!
Their point of view demanded, that all paths got them to where they had landed,
And well, that was all well and good,
But until you walked through the door,
I never really,
Understood.
Sometimes it seems I have these thoughts,
I only can get half through,
Like why are the days I can’t deal with the world,
The only ones I really have to?
That it’d hurt me more than them,
Could they have possibly known?
When they shrugged shoulders and then,
Doused themselves in cologne?
