Rolling in His Grave
Scared to Blue ~ Philip Brent Harris
Like the narcissistic needs of a reborn Christian’s god,
Donald Trump requires constant praise and adoration.
100,000-plus Americans dead; he wants us to applaud.
He’ll say, do and promise anything for your adulation.
It seems there is nothing too incendiary or outrageous
Like when he stands lying, about his feeble response.
He flame-tweets others calls them names, to enrage us,
And then invents conspiracies, to sell us like a ponce.
We are led by stupid people, he’s said more than once;
Though it takes one to know one, or so it seems to me.
Does that somehow make him the definition of dunce.
Throws tantrums, yells they should love me, Mommy.
Failed at all he’s done, claims that that is his success.
He think he lead us; I think he’s succumbed to his ego.
His public diatribes so loud, strident and full of excess.
His base built on fear, hate and bile; how far will it go?
He fosters hate, builds walls, to keep out certain races,
With racism, misogyny, jack boots at chainlike fences.
His target any group, gender, names, the color of faces.
If he succeeds, he’ll throw away any and all pretenses.
Think me a fool for my view; I fear it cannot be changed.
Can’t brook anyone who uses fear, hate to acquire power.
Sad Republican hacks who abet him are evil or deranged,
If calculated or crazy, rolling in his grave is Eisenhauer.
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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