Trump, In Verse

Let’s bring in the cameras, and put on a show.
Who cares if the Feds say it’s not apropos?
My followers – brimming with corps de esprit –
all want this beamed out to their HDTVs.

Jack Smith (he’s deranged) is proceeding in secret,
denying attention: my life blood – I seek it.
I want this sham trial aired in person and live
so from Nikki and Ron all O2 is deprived.

This push for a simulcast’s all at my urgin’ –
to undercut claims of election subversion
while I say the public’s been kept in the dark
and can claim persecution, just like Joan of Arc.

As Taylor Swift says: haters gonna keep hatin’.
But evidence here? Far from exoneratin’.
My ask of the judge: short on facts, long on bluster –
but bullshit, at this point, is all I can muster.

And yet, I’ve support from the media (mainstream);
surprising they’d get behind my latest lame scheme.
As Smith and the DOJ try to condemn me,
I could be convicted – but might win an Emmy.